


Protector

by jesidres



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Dojima gets a persona, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Post-Canon, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesidres/pseuds/jesidres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>....He felt more than fine; he felt better than he had in years.</p><p>Detective Ryotaro Dojima never believed in the nonsense about there being a world on the other side of the tv... no matter what his former partner or his nephew said.  He keeps on disbelieving until a mistimed prison riot has Adachi accidentally pushing him through the tv and putting face to face with his other self.  Only someone or something seems to be aiding him, and in the confrontation, Dojima's been given something that will either burn him to ash or forge him into someone who can keep his promises to protect all he holds dear.</p><p>First he needs to apologize to his nephew and his friends, though; turns out that 'TV World' really does exist....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> I've played Persona 4/Golden/Ultimax/Dancing All Night now multiple times, and it still *kills* me that Dojima doesn't get to be the badass we know he is.
> 
> This started out as a 'Dojima gets a persona' fic, but quickly became something more.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for the kudos and comments! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I wanted to make it longer for folks.

He awoke to a calloused hand gripping his chin, pulling him up from wherever he’d fallen to.  His vision swam as he attempted to open his eyes, but slowly, a well dressed figure came into focus in front of him.

 

“Finally awake, you lousy drunkard?  For a moment I worried there you were out cold.  Here, if I’m going to deal with you, I’d want this to be fair… it’s no fun to kick someone who’s already down.” The mouth of a bottle was pushed between his lips, and his mouth was full a liquid briefly tasted like fruit before it began to burn down his throat.

 

The fire seem to spread from his gut out towards his limbs, making his chest feel tight and his nerves scream as it burned away the fog that had been weighing them down.

 

With it, he remembered.

 

He was Detective Ryotaro Dojima; he had been visiting his former partner who’d been arrested a year ago for the murders of two women in his hometown of Inaba.  His nephew, who was once again staying with him, had tried to explain to him how it had been caused by a world inside the television sets and a wrathful god; while he admitted privately to himself that there were things that couldn’t be explained about the case, he’d never admit such nonsense held water.

 

Until today.

 

Today, of all days, a riot had started in the prison, leading to a lockdown and power failure.  He’d scrabbled for a gun that wasn’t there; they’d made him check it before entering the visiting room.  Still, he hadn’t gone down without a fight, before a wave of prisoners had broken down the dividers and pushed him, Adachi, and several guards into a corner.  Someone had just made a solid uppercut to his jaw when he’d heard an “Oh crap!” from his former partner…

 

….And suddenly, they were falling, all of them, into darkness.

 

He coughed as the bottle was snatched back from his lips, still feeling like his entire being was ablaze even as the fog lifted.  He tried to bring his hands up to wipe his face, only to find them bound behind his back.  

 

“Ah, ah, let’s not be greedy, lousy detective, this is powerful stuff.  I want this an even match, not unfairly weighted to one side… no matter how much you’d need it.”  The figure laughed as realization dawned on him.

 

The figure in front of him, holding him captive in this smoke filled room...was himself.

 

Or at least, someone (or something) that wore his face and used his voice. Unlike the detective, currently without his suit jacket and developing what he suspected was more than a few bruises; this, er, him was immaculately dressed in a black suit, jacket and all, clean shaven and wearing a smirk.  The difference that held his attention, though, was this imposter’s eyes.  Cold, narrowed, golden eyes that seemed to laugh at him.

 

“Poor, pathetic, useless me, can’t save anyone, can you?  We couldn’t save Chisato.  Couldn’t save  Adachi.  Couldn’t save that poor singer.” The imposter brought his face within inches of his own.  “Couldn’t even save our poor daughter, when she needed her daddy most.”  The imposter laughed and pushed himself away from his captive, even as Dojima pulled at his bonds, desperate to land a punch and shut this asshole up.

 

“I’m sick and tired of having to watch you throw it all away.” The imposter continued, as he sat down in a twisted throne opposite the bound detective.  Ghostly figures that resembled women in expressionless masks slinked towards him, bringing him a tumbler of liquor and a lit cigarette. “For what, a dead case that you’ll never solve?  You’re pathetic.  Won’t even take the promotional exam!  Not that it matters; we both know you’re nothing better than a washed up detective from a backwater town, nothing more.”

 

The imposter slipped the bottle he’d made Dojima drink from into the breast pocket of his jacket, before raising his own glass to his prisoner.  He took a long sip, chuckling as the detective growled in response.  “Yes, yes, growl like the stray mutt that you are.”

 

Dojima glared at this cracked version of himself, blood pounding in his ears as he again tried to pull himself free.  The liquid fire still burned in his belly, travelling down each nerve as his muscles screamed against his bonds.  He felt lightheaded, his anger and the fire making the blood boil in his chest.  This stupid asshole wearing his face reminded him of Adachi in some ways, after he’d confessed.  He seemed to revel in the betrayal he was voicing.

 

He knew he’d had these dark thoughts before; many of them he’d been forced to confront when Yu had stayed with them, and the terrible incidents from the year before.  He didn’t know how this imposter could know his darkest secrets, let alone voice them with such blase. Something about this yellow-eyed copy of himself reminded him of something… he just couldn’t remember what it was…

 

Then, like a cold knife, a memory cut through his boiling anger.  It was of Yu, describing the trials the kids had gone through in order to save everyone and bring Adachi to justice.   _We were forced to face our inner demons_ , he said, _in the form of our shadow selves.  In denying them, we gave them power, and only when we accepted them were they defeated_.

 

Was that what this being was, holding him hostage?  His inner nightmares, brought to life?  His…’shadow’?

 

That fall in the prison… he tried to remember the layout of the visitor’s room.  Yes, there was a large flatscreen in the corner.  Had Adachi somehow pushed him in here in the confusion?  No, he’d been behind him when the mob had pushed them. Probably brought him here completely by accident, then, in the effort to escape.  How many others had fallen in with them?  Were they all in this position, being tortured by their repressed issues and thoughts?  The cool clarity of it all doused the fire burning in his limbs, leaving him feeling like freshly forged steel.  Behind him, the bonds holding him snapped.

 

Dojima bowed his head, and laughed.  

 

“Hmm? Something funny?  Have you finally gotten the joke that is your life?”  His...shadow rested his chin on the back of his hand in that twisted throne of his.

 

Dojima ignored the jab and continued to chuckle.   “I thought they had made it all up.  This… world inside the tv.  Guess it’s just one of those things you gotta see to believe, huh?”  His shadow stood up, his brow furrowed as his strode towards the detective.  “I get it now.  It must be so easy to deny the worst of yourself if they’re a separate entity, calling you out.  To deny that those terrible thoughts and emotions are yours.”  The shadow now stood above him, another dark thought on his tongue.

 

Before the shadow could speak, Dojima sprang like a coiled snake, his fist connecting solidly with his doppelganger's chin.  The shadow recoiled before springing back at him, both men locking arms and fists like fighting bulls.  “I get it.  You’re me.  I remember every time I felt like a failure, every time I looked at Nanako and saw Chisato, asking why I hadn’t saved her.  It took my nephew saving my ass to see it.”  Dojima’s knee slammed into his shadow, pulling them apart.  “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to still kick your ass.”

 

The two men circled each other, two predators sizing up the competition.  “This is going to be much more interesting than originally planned, I see.”  The Shadow Dojima stripped off his coat, rolling his sleeves.  “If I was going to finally have my day with you, I wanted it a fair fight.  Not like the others, who were happy to let the fog dull their counterparts.  No, if I was going to take you down, I wanted to make it fun.  I’m so glad she agreed.”

 

“You talk too damn much, you know that?”  The fire in his stomach was growing again, his blood hot and loud.  He sensed an opening and took it; his fist slamming into his shadow’s stomach, followed by a roundhouse to the face, before grabbing the collar and slamming him to the wall with a bit too much relish.  The blood in his ears began to hum and he lifted the other man up to slam him again, reveling in the look in those golden eyes.

 

“No, no!  You aren’t supposed to be this strong… you’re not supposed to win!”  Hands that scrabbled with the arms that held him began to darken and sharpen, becoming claws that drew blood.  The shape began to shift under Dojima’s grip, gaining size and changing away from his own face….

 

“Uncle!”  Dojima turned at the sound of Yu’s voice behind him, and that was enough of an opening for the shadow to break free, roaring at the new intruders.  The darkness coalesced into its final shape; a giant black wolf with golden eyes and silver teeth as long as an arm.

 

“No! I won’t lose!” The wolf shadow snarled in a corrupted version of Dojima’s voice.  It lunged at the group of teens, those sharp teeth seeking flesh to sink into.

 

Suddenly, a great figure sprang up around his nephew, which summoned a bolt of lightning and fried the air around the great Shadow, but bounced off.  “It’s no good- it reflects electricity!  You need to find another way to defeat it!” The Rise girl’s voice seemed to echo inside Dojima’s head, and brief vision of weak points overlaid his sight.  

 

One by one, Yu’s friends attacked with varying degrees of success, each summoning their own creatures or figures to fight.  What a way to learn it was all real.  He made a mental note to apologize to them later - if they survived this.

 

Damnit, this thing came from him; he should be the one fighting it.  He cursed at his lack of sidearm here for the upteenth time as he scrabbled for something he could use.  

 

His hand closed around the handle of something in the dark corner of the room; a bat, heavy and crude, sticking out of a box.

 

The Shadow was advancing on one of the kids who’d been knocked down by a previous attack; Hanamura, it looked like.  Still, it kept its eyes on the whole group, ready to attack any of them before they could land a hit.  Everyone, that is, except Dojima.

 

The fire in his core now molten hot, the bat slammed up into the sternum of the wolf creature with every ounce of strength he had.  It must of caught the shadow off guard, because the blow sent it flying through the air, onto its back, momentarily disoriented.  Everyone saw this as the opening they needed, and set upon the creature in a cloud of fists, kicks and swings.

 

\------

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Uncle?” Yu watched his uncle carefully as they made their way out of the twisted shadow version of Inaba’s police station.

 

“Again, Yu, I feel fine.”  Better than fine, really.  He hadn’t felt this good in years, if ever.  The fire had subdued to an ember, but he felt like he could go for another ten rounds with every damn creature in this world.  He shifted the suit jacket slightly across his shoulders, noting the look of concern hadn’t left his nephew’s face.  “Why, shouldn’t I be?”

 

“Previously, when we’ve rescued victims of this place, the fog and confrontation of one’s shadow’s self leaves them completely exhausted and weak.”  Shirogane piped up, a step behind them.  “Though, we did get to you sooner than most… still, it is remarkable that you’re still on your feet, Dojima-san, let alone still able to fight with us.”

 

His free hand went to his chest.  His ‘Shadow’... now transformed from the great wolf nightmare into his own personal Persona: the great golden dragon Kohryu.  Somehow, the creature felt like an old friend, resting just beneath his skin…

 

A flash of memory was sparked by Shirogane’s words.  Something his shadow had said to him.   _“....I wanted it a fair fight.  Not like the others, who were happy to let the fog dull their counterparts.  No, if I was going to take you down, I wanted to make it fun.  I’m so glad she agreed...”_

 

He repeated the words and the events before his nephew’s arrival.

 

“She…? Who could he be speaking about? ….Izanami?  And I’m curious about this vial.  Perhaps that is the reason you aren’t exhausted like the rest?” Shirogane tapped her chin thoughtfully.  “It might be still up at the top of the police station…”

 

“Er, Naoto, I’m curious too, but do you really want to fight our way through that mess to check?”  Yu looked worried.

 

“Oh, no, sorry.  Just curious.  It probably was destroyed in the battle, anyways.”

 

Dojima half-listened to the conversation as he fished into his pocket for a cigarette and a light.  He could have sworn he had a lighter in his suit jacket…

 

Instead of a lighter, his hand closed around a small glass bottle.  He remembered, he hadn’t had his jacket when they’d fallen in.  He must have absentmindedly picked up his shadow’s discarded one, after it was all over.  The jacket he’d put that bottle in…

 

“...Uncle?”

 

-

 

Yu had asked to borrow the bottle for a moment when they’d returned to the main stage area.  The strange little mascot kid from Junes was waiting for them, distracting Dojima from seeing his nephew duck into a door that appeared in the mist.  

 

“Da da da da! Here you go, pops! I haven’t made a pair in ages!”  Dojima ignored the nickname to pick up what the bear was offering him: a set of aviator style tinted glasses.  He slipped them on, amazed as the fog vanished around them.

 

“Oh, man, Teddie, I knew letting you watch Hot Fuzz was a bad idea…”  The Hanamura kid moaned from a seat on the floor.  Hmph.  He rather liked the look.

 

Rise took a breath in and summoned her own creature, its radar head scanning the area around them.  “I sense 5 others in here, but they’re not nearly as far or as deep as Dojima-san was.  We should be able to get to them, no problem.”

 

The others gathered around her, making plans of attack, and leaving Dojima off to the side on his own.  “Uncle, over here.”

 

Dojima turned to see his nephew appear from a curl of blue smoke, another figure following behind him.  The figure was a woman, with silver hair and a blue attendant’s outfit.  A thick, dark book was clasped under one arm, and the bottle in the other.  He tensed when he noticed her golden eyes.

 

“Uncle Dojima, this is Margaret.  She wanted to talk to you about the bottle your shadow had.”  The woman nodded, a strange humor dancing in those yellow orbs.

 

“Is she someone’s shadow, too?”  Yu stepped back at the shock of his uncle’s words, but Margaret merely chuckled.  

 

“Not all who have golden eyes here are shadows, detective.”  He noted it wasn’t a denial, but decided not to press it.  “I am merely a servant of the forces that guard humans from these realms.”  She held out the bottle to him.

 

“Tell me, detective, are you familiar with the story of how Izanagi defeated Izanami’s army?”  Dojima shook his head.  Mythology had never been his strong suit.  “When fleeing the underworld, Izanagi came upon a peach tree, and threw three peaches to defeat the horde of the dead coming after him.  It was said that for this, the tree’s fruit would grant the bounty of Izanagi’s realm: strength, vitality, and youth to whomever ate them, burning away the waste of Izanami’s touch.”

 

Dojima’s hand pressed against his middle; the fire that had been ebbing from his gut had rekindled at Margaret’s words.  If she noticed, she didn’t mention it.  “I have never seen a liqueur made from such peaches, so I am not entirely sure what they would do to someone.  I can tell you, such a drink would not be meant for human hands.  In the right amounts, it could change them completely and burn away their humanity.”  He couldn’t tell if the emphasis on the word ‘burn’ had been hers or in his own head.  “But from fire comes forged steel as well.  So all I can say, detective, is guard that bottle close.”

 

With that, Margaret nodded to Yu and stepped back into the mists.  “So, you understand any of that?”

 

His nephew shook his head.  “She did say you’d be fine to fight with us, er, if you want to, to save the others here, but… Margaret can be enigmatic.”

 

“Hrmph.  Well, then, let’s go find the others and get moving, then.  Those prisoners are dangerous criminals...I’d hate to see what’s buried in their heads.”

 

Yu grinned, and the two picked up their pace into the mists of the TV World, and the fire roared to life deep within Dojima, like an engine.

 


	2. Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for a chance to go after Adachi was killing Dojima. But even the knowledge that his pyschotic ex partner was loose in a place only he and his nephew's group of friends knew about isn't enough of a distraction when he begins to notice the effects of his confrontation has had on him in the real world...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated with grammar edits.

“Damnit!”  Dojima groused as the second top button of his shirt refused to stay closed.  Nothing seemed to fit right anymore.  He’d tried three different shirts, and this was the only one which he'd had the best luck... Except for this stupid button.  He really needed to cut back on the takeout...funny, after Chisato died, he’d forgotten to eat so many times he’d been swimming in his clothes.  It wasn’t really until Yu came to stay that they no longer hung on him, like a child pretending to be a grownup. Though, right now it felt less like he was play acting and more like someone switched his wardrobe with his daughter’s.  Though he was pretty sure she didn’t own any gray dress shirts….

 

The button held for a moment, and he sighed in relief.  That sent the button flying into some unknown corner of the bedroom, never to return.  The curses that followed it were enough to make Izanami blush.

 

Admitting defeat, the detective cocked his tie hurriedly to hide the offending gap and made a mental note to stop by Junes on his way home.  Just one more thing to add to the shit pile that was this week…

 

Dojima sighed, shifting his hand roughly through his hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror.  He didn’t look any different than he had a few days ago, even if he felt like someone had disassembled him down to his atoms and slowly started to rebuild him.  ‘Ryotaro 2.0’... he snorted at the thought; his breath fogging the mirror with its heat.

 

_Heat…_

 

That fire in the pit of his stomach still licked his core; sometimes an ember, or sometimes a low, steady flame.  It made him feel constantly on edge, like he was on a permanent adrenaline rush.  Maybe the damned dragon -something shifted inside him and he corrected himself, Kohryu- wanted him to be elsewhere, doing something a bit more valuable with his time than reading reports and babysitting rookies.  

 

Not surprising, with Adachi still on the loose.

 

-

The others thrown in from the riot were spread out through this strange world, but none so deep as he had been. Several of the convicts were in a nightmarish version of a prison, their shadows and other terrors acting as their sadistic jailers.

 

They’d split into two groups of four, with Kujikawa acting as their point person and main go between.  Yu had insisted his uncle stay with him, along with Haramura and Satonaka, and Dojima didn’t question it...openly.  He may not have believed this place existed until an hour ago, but it wasn’t that piss poor of a detective. 

 

...No matter what his inner demons said.

 

To be fair, if the roles were reversed, he’d have made the same call, if not have ordered his just-freed ass to stay by the entrance.  Yu was caught in the middle of being a good leader and deferring to his elders; something that always left you with a bad taste in your mouth.  Dojima knew his nephew wanted to keep him safe, and he was glad for that; he also suspected Yu wasn’t entirely convinced on his effectiveness in such a brand new situation.

 

Dojima splayed his hand across his abdomen again, willing the flame to subside, but there was no reasoning with such a force.  His blood simmered, his grip on the bat was making his knuckles go white.  He needed to hit something badly, and with no outlet for this strange aggression gripping him, he was left with the pressure built so high…A morbid part of his mind wondered if smoke was going to start pouring out of his mouth if he kept burning like this.  So caught up in his thoughts, Dojima didn’t even see the shadow in front of them until he practically ran into one; a grotesque mockery of a police officer stared down at him, its hand raised to shoot.

 

The real cop didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face as he swung the bat hard into the monster’s torso.  Finally, he had a release to all that aggression, his blood practically singing as he struck hard and fast at each oncoming wave.

 

The shadows never knew what hit them (In reality, it was a baseball bat, with a few punches thrown in, as well as a lightning bolt or two for good measure).

 

He dusted himself off, and Kohryu faded back into the space inside him.  The flame in his core kept continuing to eat at him, but a little less intensely than before.  Still, how long could he burn before there was nothing left?  

 

He sighed, and overheard the Hanamura kid bouncing nervously behind.

 

“Dude, I’ll be the first to say Dojima-san scares the fuck out of me on a normal day… are we sure we picked up the right detective from that warped police station?”  Yosuke whispered to Yu as they progressed down the hallway, Rise’s scans showing it safe for the moment.  Yu hid his own worry by a shake of his head.

 

“Hanamura.” The older man stopped in front of them, and Yosuke instinctively tried to hide behind Yu’s shoulder.

 

“OhgodheheardmeI’mgonnadiiiiie…”

 

Dojima snickered.  So did Yu.  Chie did too, after realizing what had happened.

 

Yosuke was trying not to pout.

 

“Hana...Yosuke, sorry... I don’t mean to sound like this is some sort of interrogation; if we’re going to work together that probably won’t help.  I’m...just a bit riled up at the moment.  Got some energy to burn.”  He tried not to wince at his own use of ‘burn’ just then.  

 

His nephew blinked, shifting his gaze directly at Dojima.  Damn.  He’d caught that.  Sometimes, the kid knew better than he let on.

 

At least his nephew had the tact to wait until they truly were out of earshot to ask.  “Uncle...are you sure you’re alright to do this?  I know you said you feel alright, but… something's been worring me.  Every time someone's mentioned something like fire...” Dojima flinched at the word, unable to stop himself, “...you’ve made a face.  Are you worried about what Margaret said?  We don’t have to do this…”

 

“No, I have to-” Dojima sighed.  The last thing he needed was to give this place more secrets and issues to throw back at them.  “Yu, look… you’re right, what that woman said…”

 

“I’m not going to lie; whatever that…’shadow’ did to me...or this place...something put me on edge, got me bouncing off the walls like a kid on a sugar high.  Too much energy building up, like a powder keg about to go off at any second.  The only thing keeping me in check is letting it out.  I don’t know how, or why, but something’s telling me if I stop right now…I’d turn to ash.”

 

Yu nodded in understanding, but the worry didn’t quite leave his eyes.  Who could blame him?  Dojima wondered, briefly, what had it been like for his nephew, the first time he fought the shadows in this place.  Was it anything similar to what he was going through, now?

 

He mentally noted that they needed to sit down and a have a nice, long talk.  One where he'd actually listen to his nephew's tales about this world inside the televisions.... But that would have to wait.  

 

They had had people to save.

 

Eventually, after the demons of four convicts, two guards, and a countless shadows, everyone was exhausted, drained and battered.  Even Dojima, whose fire had finally ebbed to a single spark, knew they were all at their limits.  Still, they’d managed to find everyone…

 

...except Adachi.

 

“Anything, Rise?” Yu asked, as he and Tatsumi carefully laying the unconscious prison guard to the floor of the main stage, next to the rest of the collected victims.

 

The girl sighed, her Persona dispersing into a shower of sparks.  “He’s back in his old space….I can tell the shadows are still avoiding him, like last time...but it feels different, somehow.  Like, he’s trapped there for the time being, but I don’t know if that’s a permanent thing.”

 

The group sighed.  “We’ll have to hope that holds for now, as even with a requisite amount of healing, we’ll have our hands full just getting these victims back to the prison.”  Naoto sighed, weariness tinging her voice.  “it's going to be very hard to explain how they all ended up in Junes…”

 

“I might have a solution for that… I may be able to use one of our delivery trucks.”  A keychain jangled at the end of Yosuke’s fingers, their shine mirrored in his grin.  “We can at least get them back to the prison site… though I don’t know how we’d get them back in- particularly with all those cameras they have set up around a place like that.”

 

“I think I can help with that; not that they’d ever admit it, but there’s some holes in their security system that haven’t been fixed yet.  Part of the reason I’ve been visiting Adachi is to make sure the bastard hasn’t figured them out yet.”  A sigh rattled in Dojima’s chest.  “I suspect, though, when you caught him the first time… you made him agreed to stay, didn’t you?”

 

Yu nodded wordlessly.  He watched his uncle closely, hoping whatever had possessed him before was finally doused for good.  He had promised Nanako to bring her father back safe.

 

\----

 

Despite his assurances to the kids, Dojima had been surprised at how easily it had been to put everything back in place when they returned, unobtrusively, to the prison. The kids had thankfully acted fast, apparently; Teddie had felt all the intruders as soon as they’d fallen in.  Apparently Adachi’s monsters were hard to forget.  It had only been a few hours since he and the others had fallen in.

 

The power hadn't even been restored to building yet when they pulled up quietly to a side gate of the yard.  One buzz of a guard’s badge-card (at least that still worked - probably a separate system), and everyone was back inside.  In the end, no one had questioned Dojima’s story that they’d been pushed into the corner of the yard in the confusion.  After all, they still had a few escaped prisoners to worry about.

 

With his presence at the riot and his connection to one of the escapees, Dojima wasn’t allowed anywhere near the case, of course.  It’d have been nice for the change of pace, and a way to burn off some of this newfound energy of his.  That would have to wait until tomorrow, when the kids were ready to go after Adachi in his little hideout.  Still, there was plenty of work to be done, if he could sit still long enough to go through it.

 

“Hey, Dojima, what happened?” Dojima started at the voice of his sergeant behind him.  “Did your little girl finally make you go cold turkey?”

 

Dojima’s brow furrowed, confused.   _What was he on about?_

 

“Hey, no need to get upset; I know how hard it is to try and quit.  But whatever you’re doing must be working; I haven’t seen you take a smoke break in almost a week!”  The sergeant thankfully was too busy slapping Dojima’s back to notice the look of shock on the younger man's face.

 

The old man was right… when was the last time he’d smoked?  Not since the whole mess inside the tv.  He didn’t even feel a twang of craving, which he normally suffered from within an hour of his last cigarette.  

 

Damnit… what was going on here?

 

“Sorry, sir, I just…. didn’t want to jinx it.  Do you mind… my head’s pounding...I think I need to leave…”  The sergeant nodded, probably thinking it was the effects of quitting, and not the sudden terror of realizing something was terribly wrong with himself.

 

Dojima’s head swam as he walked out to the garage.  His gut ached; the fire was growing again, blood pounding in his ears.  “God DAMNIT!” He swung a punch at a nearby pole, frustrated and needing to just let it out.  He connected solidly, and for a moment he thought he'd broken something.

 

His breath rattling in his chest, his eyes traced down his arm to his clenched fist.  The metal sign he’d hit was crumpled around his hand like a tissue, the cement behind it cracking and crumbling from the impact.  He withdrew his hand quickly, and the sign clattered to the floor with a tinny clang.  A ‘no smoking’ sign, as if to mock him.

 

The detective stared at his hand, fingers still curled, as if there’d be an answer on it.  

 

What the hell was happening to him?


	3. Forge

Yu pulled the door open with a sigh, glad for the mild December weather and the comforting silence of the quiet town, so unlike last year.

 

He’d expected the Dojima household to be empty at this time after school; Nanako’s piano lessons and increasing social calendar took her more and more out of the house.  Uncle...well, he was trying, but old habits did die hard.  He’d be home in time for dinner, but without a new partner, he did have his fair share of work.

 

So when his foot hit another set of shoes, already left haphazardly in the front hall, next to a Junes bag, it wasn’t hard to guess who was the owner of the pair; his uncle was a man of habit, and Yu suspected the older man’s closet was full of the exact same pair of dress shoes, bought in bulk.

 

Still… it was unusually early for the detective to be home.   _Had something happened?_

 

Only one way to find out.

 

The teen didn’t have far to go to find the man in question.  Dojima was seated at his usual space on the couch, his elbows on his thighs as he sat, hunched over.  He was playing with something in his hands.  Dull gray eyes stared at the blank screen of the TV.  If he had heard his nephew come home, he didn’t acknowledge it.

 

“...Uncle?”

 

As he drew closer, Yu realized what was in his uncle’s hands.  A thick, metal bar, like those found at construction sites, that had to be a foot or so in length.  Or, at least, it had at some point; Yu watched in terrified fascination as Dojima, with his bare hands, bent it into a knot, like the steel was nothing more than a length of rope.

 

“I haven’t craved a cigarette, not since we came back.”  The bar groaned as Dojima twisted it onto itself.  “I’ve had more energy in that time than I’ve had in years.”  The ends were curved into a bow shape, as if the detective was tying a shoelace.  “I got frustrated at work and cracked a goddamn cement pillar in half.”  The knot of steel fell from his grasp, and he buried his face in his hands.  “What the hell is happening to me?”

 

Yu didn’t have an answer.

 

He didn’t even know where to get one, for that matter.

 

“I’m sorry, Uncle.”

 

For a moment, Dojima wanted to blame him.  He wasn’t the one suddenly scared if he wasn’t careful and didn’t keep himself in check, that someone would get hurt.  His nephew had been the lucky one, who fell into the TV and came out unscathed.

 

But part of facing yourself, facing your inner thoughts and demons, was being honest with all of yourself.  He leaned back into the couch, scratching his head with a sigh.  “Don’t say you’re sorry.  It’s not your fault; I should have believed you when you told me the first time.  And unless one of those personas you’ve got in that library of yours can incite a prison riot to have Adachi pull me in there, I don’t think that’s your doing, either.”  Dojima shot his nephew a wiry grin, who returned it with a relieved one of his own.  “Adachi, on the other hand…”

 

The grin became a dark smirk.  “Well, if he’s as tough as you say he is, I’m going to have a lot of fun kicking his ass.”

 

“Are you sure you want to fight?  If the TV world is really affecting you in ways we don’t know how fix, if might be dangerous for you to join us….”

 

Dojima’s snort of dismissal cut his nephew off. “One, Adachi is my responsibility.  If I wasn’t visiting him in the jail that day, he’d have never been able to get back in there to begin with.  Two… I want answers.  You’re right, I don’t know what’s going on with me.  But if that ‘TV world’ really did a number on me, I’m not going to find answers out here, am I?”

 

Yu sighed.  He knew before even suggesting it that he’d lose this battle.  “I wonder if I got my obstinate nature from your side of the family.”

 

His uncle laughed at that.  “Damned straight.  Now maybe you might to begin to understand the hell you and your merry band of ‘investigators’ put me through last year.”

 

“That’s cold, uncle-”  Anything else the teen was going to say was lost with the sound of the door opening, then shutting with a slam.

 

“I’m home! Big Bro, I…”  Nanako slowed as she noted her father on the couch and the worried look on her cousin’s face.  “Are you two fighting again?”

 

 _One of these days, I’m going to have to explain that most adult conversations isn’t ‘fighting’_.  Really, where was she learning these things from?  “No, no, princess, we’re just talking.  I promise.”  She scooted next to him, grabbing her father in a tight hug.  He slid his own arm gently around her, as if she was made of glass.

 

Then again, if his newfound strength held, she might as well have been.  After all that he almost lost last year, he was damned sure no one was going to ever hurt her again. 

 

Even he had to kill them himself.

 

Nanako’s gaze shifted to the floor, then she slipped out Dojima’s embrace to reach down.  “Daddy, what’s this?”

 

The young girl needed to use both hands to pick up the knotted metal bar that Dojima had dropped earlier.

 

Dojima winced, trying desperately to come up with a white lie that would explain...

 

His nephew came to the rescue.  “It’s an art project, Nanako-chan.”

 

“Really?  It’s cute!”

 

His nephew was a little *too* good at this....

-

 

Despite all the energy he'd felt earlier, Dojima drifted off to sleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  He rarely dreamed, but after a while of wonderful nothingness, his feet found a path in the darkness, and he noted a prick of light in the distance.  As he walked, the gray light got larger and larger, and the path beneath his feet took a reddish hue, like clay tiles.  Slowly, the gray became an enveloping mist, like the sickening months long fog from the year before.  Something, deep in his mind, told him his was not a simple dream.

 

The figure in front of him confirmed it.

 

Dojima glared at the thing called his 'shadow', a growl in his throat.  “I thought I was done dealing with you.  What, am I not done ‘accepting’ you yet? Or do you just need a rematch?” 

 

The shadow with his face smirked. “Dealing with the worst of yourself takes time, Ryotaro.  You should know better than anyone.  But, you’ve started accepting me, and that means no rematches.  Not this time, at least.”

 

The ever present fire in his core sparked his earlier fears.  His eyes narrowed as his fist clenched.  “Are you the one responsible for what’s happening to me?”

 

“Oh, partially.  But,” the shadow held up a hand, “I was just a pawn in a much larger game.  You should feel honored she chose you.”

 

“Chosen for what? And who is this ‘she’ you keep blathering on about?”

 

“She who protects wishes.”  A dark blue strip of paper floated down through the fog, and Dojima caught it as it blew by.  After a moment, he recognized it as the tanzaku he’d made during the Tanabata festival this year.  A silly little thing, made at Nanako's insistence.

 

_To protect this city and my family and to never let the events of last year happen again ._

 

He frowned in confusion.  What did this have to do with anything?

 

His shadow read his mind.  “I thought I was just getting lucky, when she showed up, offering me the liqueur of vitality to get you up and fighting.  But she knew you’d beat me.  That our nephew would come in, and save the day.  No, she just wanted to give it to you, to keep striving towards your wish.  After all, you were starting to worry you’d have to give it up, weren’t you?”

 

It was true.  After Adachi’s conviction, top brass treated him with kid gloves.  He was being passed over for more and more assignments, no matter how he’d been the only one who’d believed that there had more to the case that just the Mitsuo kid, besides Shirogane.  They’d made the right excuses, of course.  ‘You’re not the young man you used to be, Dojima-san,’ they’d said, ‘And after your accident...we want to make sure you’re well enough…’  Get promoted to a powerless desk sergeant position, and he'd be out of their hair for good.

 

It’d had been a bitter, ugly truth in front of him.  He might never have been back, pounding the pavement, where he needed to be.  Unable to protect Inaba, and everyone he held dear.

 

“But apparently even goddesses can make mistakes.  She didn’t think you’d take to its power so well.  Guess we’re closer to Izanagi’s bloodline than she knew.”  The shadow grinned.  “Cleared out all the shit we’ve put in our body for the last 40 years.  Can’t keep up with the kids with smoker’s lungs, can we? Turned back the clock a bit, too- your gray hairs are going to have to wait a while yet.  And that POWER, whoo!  It’s gonna take more than a little car crash to stop us, now!  Hell, the next time a car hits you, the car's gonna be the one going home on a stretcher!”  The shadow crowed, enjoying his counterpart's discomfort.

 

The fire in Dojima's gut was raging stronger as his shadow spoke; his blood singing louder and louder, almost drowning his shadow’s cackle out.  He was starting to feel lightheaded. 

 

“That stuff’s going to forge you into a goddamn hero, if you’re careful with it.  She wanted to keep Inaba safe, and we’re going to do that for her.”

 

“Congratulations, Ryotaro.  You just made the promotion to Inaba’s own goddess-appointed protector.” 

 

“Hope you’re up for it.”

 

And then the darkness swallowed him whole again.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically where this became more than a 'DOJIMA DESERVES A PERSONA' fic, and more of a 'Ok, if he didn't get a persona during the original canon game, how could he get one after?' And why would he need one?
> 
> My friend jokes with me that this is my 'how more badass can Dojima the DILF be' fic....


	4. Hammer

Morning came much too quickly, and with it arrived a dull headache and a tangle of sweaty sheets.  Half-remembered dreams vied for his attention, but none stayed still long enough for him to remember anything useful.  What time was it anyways?  He needed a drink, and it wasn’t even eight am…

 

It took him a full second to realize he’d raised something to his lips, and a familiar burning was touching his tongue.   _The bottle…._ He jerked his hand away; by some miracle he didn’t spill the rest of its contents. Adrenaline and fear worked far quicker than the strongest coffee ever could, cutting through the foggy haze of sleep like a knife.

 

A moment after he’d caught his breath, he cautiously opened his hand.  Sure enough, it was the little ornate bottle from his shadow, a little less full than when he’d locked it away in his personal safe.  Dojima grimaced as his tongue ran over his teeth, trying to brush away the burn of the liqueur.  The heat of this taste wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as the last time he’d drank its contents; it was more like a fire in the middle of a snowstorm, with the faint breath of peaches.  Perhaps it was because he’d taken barely a sip…

 

But why had it been out, in arm’s reach?  He’d placed it in his lockbox, more so to keep himself safe from it, than the other way around.  He’d never slept walked before, nor would he have any reason to go to it in the middle of the night.

 

‘Ryotaro…’

 

His dreams echoed in his mind.  Had his nightmares made him a puppet to their whims?  He recalled, vaguely, being told he’d been chosen for something, but beyond that was the blossoming pain of a headache.

 

So instead of deciphering prophetic dreams of shadows and gods, he opted for a shower.  A cold one, to wash away some of the fire that was already stoking through him.

 

Steam filled the bath, even as he’d turn the dial past ‘cold’ and into ‘glacial ice flow’.  Water sizzled on his skin, the heat turning it to vapor in an instant.  This wasn’t just the usual burn of alcohol; whatever that stuff was doing to him, it was causing a fever that by all rights he should be dead from.  The tile of the bath warmed uncomfortably as he braced against it, almost glowing between his fingers, all the while he tried willing the flame to extinguish.  It felt like ages before the boiling abated, and some sense of normalcy returned.

 

With it, came freezing his ass off.  “Shit!”  Hands scrambled for the taps, trying to adjust the water temperature to where he normally left it.

 

A futile shave later, and he was back to the bedroom to change and find out how Yu and his friends planned to extract Adachi from his own little world.

 

The bottle still stood on the nightstand, mocking him.  Something in the back of his head (his shadow? His dream? His nightmares? His masochistic tendencies?) tried to cajole him into taking another drink.  “Like Hell I will.”

 

The bottle didn’t respond.  

 

Trying not to let the anger get the better of him, he snatched the bottle up, walked back to his closet to the small safe there, and yanked the door open.  The offending item was placed all the way in the back, out of sight, and hopefully, out of mind. Dojima was going to close the safe and just forget it even existed.

 

It took a moment to realize that was going to be much more difficult than he originally planned.  He had assumed the safe was still unlocked from whenever that night he’d retrieved the bottle; he’d been mistaken.  The solid metal door hung from his grip; the locking mechanism sheared off and the titanium bolts still dangling from the hinges, ruined.  

 

This was going to take some getting used to.

 

Trying his best not to get caught up at how easy it was, he bent the door back into place, closing it with a hard squeeze at each of the edges.  It was just as well they were going to Junes…

 

\---

 

Yu tried to remember the last time he’d seen his uncle in something other than his usual grey dress shirt and slacks.  Memory failed him, so he just tried his best not to stare when the older man had come to the front hall in jeans and a loose BayStars baseball sweatshirt that was left unzipped.  Unremarkable, really, and rather perfect for blending into a crowd.  Knowing his uncle, that was probably his intention.  Still, something just felt ...odd about seeing Dojima like this.

 

Apparently, everyone else on the Investigation Team felt much the same way.  “Dude, it’s just… freaky seeing Dojima-san not dressed like a cop!”  Naoto’s elbow was doing little to get Kanji to shut up.

 

“You know I can hear you, Tatsumi; knock it off!”  The girls were doing their best to hide their smiles (well, not Yukiko, but even Dojima knew there was no stopping her once she started), and Yu just tried mentally to apologize repeatedly.  It didn’t help that Yosuke whispered that all Dojima-san needed was a ‘I’m too old for this shit’ sign and the scene would be perfect.  Uncle must of heard that too, because he ‘accidentally’ tripped the boy shortly afterward.  

 

He was still grumbling on why they hadn’t just headed straight to Junes and be done with it when they entered the Daidara Metalworks.  Daidara’s scarred face broke into a grin at the sight of his favorite customer.  “Ah, back again?  I must say I’ve missed the fine materials you brought me last year, and your keen eye for craftsmanship...eh?”  The newcomer with the boy caught his eye.  “Detective Dojima, it’s been a while.  Are you looking for another repair on your service weapon?”

 

“No, no… I came with my nephew here.” Yu winced at the glare burning into the back of his head.  His uncle was probably figuring out why he and Yosuke had been caught with the weapons in Junes almost two years ago now….

 

Dojima scanned the walls as his nephew bartered several of the items they’d picked up in the tv world.  The bat he’d picked up before had been good in a pinch, but the kid was right; a few more battles and it would probably snap in two.  Still, he had like the feel of it, and the idea of a sword or knife just didn’t seem to fit…. Then his eyes noticed a set of traditional samurai gear, and he smirked.

 

The kanabo that Daidara had was solid metal, and had to be at least five feet in length.  The main portion of the weapon was covered in dull spikes; they wouldn’t prick your finger, but they’d break bone if they connected right.  A nasty, brutish weapon that required brute strength and reflexes to wield effectively.  It was perfect.

 

Daidara raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as Dojima carried the kanabo with one hand over for his nephew’s opinion.  Yu nodded his approval, and part of the money he’d just received returned to the smith’s hands for the weapon, and kendo case to disguise it with, despite Dojima’s objections.  “Uncle, you helped get the materials in the first place, so it’s only fair we use the money to buy it.”  

 

Dojima still grumbled, but left it at that.

 

“Man, this thing weighs a ton!  This is worse than that the steel plate you drag around, Kanji!”  Yosuke had groaned as he’d tried to pick the kanabo up a little later at the back entrance to Junes.

 

“Well, yeah, it’s supposed to be, dumbass! Samurai used it to smash open armor and break bones!  It’s the traditional weapon of ogres and oni because of that!” Everyone cocked an eyebrow at Kanji for the impromptu history lesson.  “S-stop looking at me like that!  So I like to watch history programs when I knit!”

 

Hard to believe this was the same kid he’d arrested after punching half a dozen gang members in the face, but then again, his nephew seemed to have that effect on people.  He always seemed to be able to draw out the inner depths of people and make the most of them.  Even Dojima himself wasn’t immune to his nephew’s abilities to make you face the worst in yourself, and come out better for it.

 

That line of thought was cut off as he realised the group of teenagers around him slowed to a halt.  In front of them, Junes’ biggest TV sat on display, its screen blank.  Yet, now knowing what it led to, Dojima couldn’t help but feel unease at that dark surface.  The apprehension only grew as his nephew pushed into it, the blackness rippling around his hand.  A moment later, glasses on, they all followed the young man.  Falling in.

 

\-----

 

After the dark skies and ominous buildings of before, Dojima was surprised by the scene of nature around them as they recovered from their entrance.  “This looks different.”

 

The kid in the bear suit nearly gave him a heart attack when he answered from behind.  “This is the way this world is supposed to look, without the fog and people inside it.  It reacts to people’s inner thoughts.  After you took everyone out who didn’t belong, it started to turn back… except for there….”

 

Even without following the bear’s pointing mitt, it would be hard to miss what he was referring to.  There, a little ways off in the distance, was a dome of darkness and fog, looming like a villain's castle in a fairytale.  “Adachi.”  As if there was anyone else such a pit could belong to.

 

Yu glanced at his uncle, and understood the older man’s anger.  He’d nearly lost it all because of his former’s partner’s sick game.  Now, instead of stuck in a hospital, watching his only daughter cling to life, Dojima had the chance to finally, properly, bring Adachi in.

 

Yu just hoped he could keep his uncle from killing the man beforehand.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give Dojima a weapon that would be similar to a bat, but would play well into his newfound strength and tie back into Yu's tendency to go for feudal weaponry. Originally, I was considering a jittu, since it was the traditional weapon of the police, but it felt too small and not something that would do well against a shadow. 
> 
> It also helps that I have a headcanon that he probably played a fair amount of baseball in highschool. (Thus the BayStars sweatshirt).
> 
> I hope everyone's been enjoying this so far. Comments are loved and appreciated!


	5. Temper

A growl rolled in his throat, making his mouth twist in a snarl.

 

This is what Adachi thought of Inaba?  A town reduced to rubble, nothing left but a mess of roads and few half standing buildings.  His nephew seemed to be surprised- before, Adachi’s inner dungeon had been even worse; before, none of the buildings were standing and flattened into twisted walls.  Yu seemed to view this as Adachi’s improved view of the town.  It still made Dojima sick, seeing the places he’d tried so hard to protect, left to ruin, all while his former’s partner’s voice filtered around them, taunting and teasing.

 

Of course, there were touches that could only be from the murderer’s incarceration.  Prison bars and plexiglass often barred their way through the maze, meant to make their way longer and more ardorous.  Some were puzzles, only unlocking when they’d done some inane task.  Finally, after spending far too long on a puzzle that got them nowhere, Dojima had had enough of following Adachi’s whims.  The plexiglass exploded with the force of all of his anger and frustration put behind one mighty swing.  For a brief moment, the murmur around them went silent.

 

The voices crashed back a moment later with a howl, Adachi’s higher and louder than the others.  “NO! Nononono! That’s not fair!  I played by your rules…mostly!  You’re not supposed to just bulldoze your way through! You stupid assholes, you’re making me MAAAAAAD!”  The team winced as the voices gain pitch and volume, indecipherable save for the former detective’s, but all were unmistakably angry and loud.

 

The shadows from then on seemed to double in number and strength when they attacked.  The barriers were reinforced, too; Dojima decided against trying to smash another, anyways. The worst thing you could do when you’ve got a suspect holed up was to make them mad.  Mad suspects were unpredictable.  Then again, he wasn’t sure that Adachi was all that sane to begin with.

 

“Man, this is getting intense.  I kinda thought that since we’d been here before, this would be a piece of cake.” The knife spun around Yosuke’s fingers, nervousness causing the blade to drop more than once.

 

Chie stamped her feet, trying to keep herself psyched up, even as they trudged on.  “Well, this place is all from his head, right? He’s probably had a lot of time to think while in prison.”

 

Something in the back of the older detective’s mind surfaced during this discussion.  “You said that Adachi has a persona, right?  Does that mean...anyone can get them?  None of the others who fell into here during the riot ended up with one… right?” Suddenly, fears of criminals with supernatural abilities running amok rose up in him.

 

“No, they would have had to have faced their other selves, and let them transform.  When Mitsuo was thrown in, he didn’t accept his shadow-”

 

“Wait,” Dojima interrupted, “Mitsuo...Mitsuo Kubo? He was thrown in here? That’s why we couldn’t find him?”

 

Yu nodded.  “He had apparently tried to turn himself into police, but no one took him seriously, and he was apparently passed off to…”

 

Dojima groaned.  “Adachi.  Of course.”  It still took him off guard, to think of his former partner as this monster who had played the police...played him as a fool. He stifled the growl that wanted to escape, blowing it out as a huff through his nose instead.

 

Yu said nothing as his uncle’s shoulders tensed at the talk of the serial murder case, but his lips did draw into a thin, nervous line.  He looked to Naoto, who acknowledged his concern.  He’d been loathe to breach his uncle’s trust, but thankfully, the younger detective had put the story together when she’d noted the damaged column at the police station coinciding with the older man’s early departure from work, and his previous behavior in the TV world.  When Yu had told her about what he’d seen his uncle do, she agreed that they needed to be careful.  Dojima may be a very carefully controlled police detective, but who knew what might happen in the heat of a fight?

 

Knowing Adachi, and how he goaded them during the showdown a year ago… particularly if he thought he could make Dojima do something he’d regret later…

 

Yu quickened his pace, trying to leave those thoughts behind.

 

His uncle had paused at the top of path, the last landing before the room Rise had indicated Adachi was located.  Plexiglass, bars, and cement crumbled around them, leading up to darkened square.  Dojima had little doubt what this twisted structure was from; when he was first detained, the confessed serial killer had been held in solitary for almost three months straight.

 

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the brats, back for another round!  The golden boy and his merry band of misfits, here to save the day!” Too late, the group realized their disadvantage, unable to see anything in the pitch darkness of the pseudo-cell.  “Wait, weren’t there just eight of you before…?  Who’s the new kid?”  A interrogation spotlight appeared in the darkness, blinding them.  Everyone was still blinking back swimming dots of color when the unmistakable cackle of Adachi Tohru filled the air.

 

“No FUCKING way!  Dojima?  DOJIMA? Oh, man, I would have paid good money to hear all the dirty little secrets he has locked inside his head.” The laughter rose to screeching levels.  “So, *partner*, how’s it feel to know all that c-crazy talk about the teevee was real?  That you couldn’t even find a murderer, no matter how much pavement you pounded, and all that extra work you made for yourself was for nothing?  Can’t even keep one lousy hick town safe, and now you're here, following the orders of a bunch of stupid brats… Don’t even have a gun, do you?  No, no, then you’d have to follow protocol and write down where you fired it, eheh, and bet the top brass would love that explanation!  Gee, Dojima, how long before they put you out to pasture?  A broken old man, trying to keep up with us youngsters….”  Adachi continued to ramble, his words slamming at his former partner, trying to find the cracks in the man’s defense.  

 

The fire within Dojima was starting to burn out of control, each comment adding fuel to it, threatening to consume him whole.  He tried to remind himself not to rush into battle, no matter how much his own shadow’s biting monologue echoed through his ears.  He knew Adachi was trying to make him mad, to make them slip up.  The kanabo was starting to glow red hot from the heat pouring out of him, the roar of the flame inside him nearly drowning out the crazed maniac.  This was it; never mind Adachi or the shadows, he’d die from the inside out by this strange fire within him.  Damnit, of all the times to lose control…!

 

A flash in the darkness caught his eye.  Even before the noise, he recognized what such a blast had to be.

 

“GUNFIRE! SCATTER!”  The teens didn’t need to be told twice.  The spotlight was empty, save for a few ricochets.  

 

Damn, of course Adachi would get his hands on a gun.  In a twisted place of his own making, where treasure chests could be found in dead ends (Dojima was still baffled by that… though less than the freaky fox that had followed them in this crazy place), of course Adachi would conjure up a gun to use.

 

Another bullet whistled by his ear, cutting off his train of thought, and Dojima realized that his former partner wasn't the only one hunting them in the room.  Shadows, at least a dozen of them, were emerging from the darkness, using the team’s scattered formation against them.  Three ‘fuzz’ types stood in front of him now, laughing and swaying, mocking him.

 

His limbs moved on their own, the fire coursing through his veins, directing his movements.  The kanabo, still red hot, smashed through them, faster than the empty imitations could dodge.  More shadows took their place, but he pushed forward, letting the flame consuming him to move him with inhuman power.  One shadow, in the shape of a snake, attempted to bind him, but burned upon his touch. Kohryu shifted around him, picking off the few his user didn’t smash into oblivion.  

 

Another shot whizzed by him, a little too close for comfort.  Adachi was close, a few meters ahead at most, if Dojima calculated correctly.  A dozen shadows still stood between them, with still more coming.

 

 _This would go a lot faster if you stopped fighting against this fire and just let it run its course._  A voice in his head echoed through him; his Shadow, Kohryu, or someone else’s, he didn’t know, but he knew the truth in the words.  He didn’t have time to fight a battle on two fronts.  One way or another, he knew he was going to burn.

 

But he was going to burn, he’d make sure Adachi burned with him, never to hurt another soul in this world or anywhere else.

 

He stopped pushing against the roaring flame, and let the fire engulf him, the goddess’s gift burning away the last of his fears and hesitation.  His vision crystallized, and time seemed to slow as the shadows dissolved beneath the kanabo’s might.  The walls of the dungeon shuddered as the steel spikes embedded in them.

 

Just as the last shadow dissolved back into the mist, a violent impact hit his shoulder, nearly spinning him halfway around.  One of Adachi’s shots finally connected, in a place where the Kevlar armor under his sweatshirt didn’t cover.  Instinct wanted Dojima to cry out, but either the adrenaline or the fire kept him numb from the pain, driving him forward instead.  He could see Adachi now, aiming towards his nephew with deadly accuracy.  _Not on his watch, damnit._

 

One hand caught the gun, forcing the firearm towards the ceiling, the other grabbing his former partner at the junction of his throat and chest, slamming him against the closest wall.  The face twisted from an insane grin to a sneer of pain, and the demented maniac's yellow eyes widened and twitched.

 

Looking back, Dojima knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at the idea that the serial murderer was his own shadow.  Instead of suppressing those nasty voices and worst aspects, Adachi had embraced them as his better half.  The former detective’s mouth twisted into an ugly grin for his old partner.

 

“Here to ruin my fun like always, Dojima?  I gotta thank you, if not for your ridiculous insistence on coming to visit your biggest failure over and over again, I would have never have gotten this wonderful opportunity to come back here.” One of Adachi’s legs lashed out in a kick, but his captor barely took notice.  “Sure, it’s a little run down, but no more than Inaba, eh?  And it sure as hell beats prison! Heck, I think the only thing worse than prison was working with your sorry ass!”

 

Dojima may have had strength on his side, but he knew that if Adachi kept attacking and squirming, he might be able to get the gun free.  If Dojima attempted to pull it out of his grasp, there would be a good chance the murderer would take the opening to slip through his fingers, and they’d have to start all  over again.  A good part of him wanted to shift his grip and just snap Adachi’s neck in two, but he knew that would just give the man one of the escapes he so desperately wanted.

 

The fire bubbled up from his core again, and he felt it again snake through his limbs, too focused on the task to really fight it.  “H-hey, what the hell, Dojima, did you stick your head in an oven or something?  Goddamn, it feels like you’re on fire, fucking hell!”  Adachi tried to pull the hand on him away, only to scorch his fingers.  Something under the palm pinning him was sizzling; possibly his own skin.   “Holy hell, are you made of fucking lava or something? Shitshitshit!”  His grip loosened on the gun, unable to bear the heat.  His captor stood, unmoving, his grasp moving only slightly to wrap around the body of the gun, keeping the trigger blocked from the maniac.

 

Dojima gripped the firearm and squeezed, the metal crumpling like paper under his strength.  The combined pressure and heat of the tightening fist was too much for the ammunition, and the whole gun exploded with one terrific bang.  Shrapnel showered down on both of them, one piece drawing blood from the younger man's forehead.  Adachi screamed, sputtered, and finally passed out.

 

Dojima barely winced, and let his former partner slide to the floor.  Molten bits of metal sizzled as it dripped onto the rubble, followed by the dull thud of the crumpled firearm slipping from his grasp.  Steam escaped his lips, mimicking the smoke he once enjoyed.  The fire that had been plaguing him for the past week was gone, leaving only the embers settled in his gut.  He almost missed it...without it, he felt so cold.

 

Kohryu circled around him, and only then did he see that the dragon had been fighting his own battle as Dojima had been locked in his own.  The cracked mask of what had to be Adachi’s persona glitched under golden scales for a few moments, before fading away into nothing.  

 

“Uncle!” Yu’s voice reeled him back to reality.  The walls of the cell were dissolving around them, turning back into the forest of this bizarre world.  Quickly, he counted heads; some of them were a little worse for wear, but all eight teens (well, seven teens and a demented bear mascot) were still standing.  His nephew ran over, catching the older man in an awkward hug.  “I saw you fighting Adachi when he was trying to shoot us.  I tried to get there, but his persona kept blocking us.  Only when you had Kohryu bind him were we able to smash through.”  The teen tried to catch his breath.  “We need to get him out of here- Uncle! Your hand!”

 

Dojima blinked, and looked down.  His right hand was covered with the remains of Adachi’s gun, with small slivers and dots of metal embedded in the skin.  It felt fine, but combined with the black soot of gunpowder, it looked like hell.  “It’s fine.  I just need to wash it off.  C’mon, help me drag this sorry excuse for a villain out of here.”

 

His nephew nodded, and bent down to the fallen convict.  Dojima wasn’t surprised Yu quickly checked for a pulse; after everything that happened, he’d half expected he’d snapped his former partner’s neck, the way the man had screamed.  The relieved look under the silver hair told him that Adachi was still alive, however.  The two men picked up the limp menace with more care than he deserved.  Eventually, Dojima just slung the unconscious man over his shoulder, letting his nephew lead them back towards the real world.

 

\-----

 

“Detective Ryotaro Dojima, would you mind explaining again how you came upon the suspect, which, I should remind you, you were explicitly told not to go after?”

 

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Dojima ignored both the tone of the question and the seat in front of him.  He’d been glad to have a spare set of slacks and a dress shirt tucked away in his desk; somehow he knew this meeting, already uncomfortable as is, would be worse if he was still in his sweatshirt and blue jeans.  More specifically, a sweatshirt with a bullet hole in the shoulder, with nothing more than a bruise behind it.

 

If he had time to think about it, he’d probably freak out about *that* new development.  The flattened projectile had plinked to the floor when he’d changed, and it taken him a good moment to remember that one of Adachi’s shots had connected in a place that the kevlar vest hadn’t covered.  Sure enough, there was a nasty bruise, already black and ugly, under his shirt, but nothing else.  No blood, no puncture.  Another thing to add to the list of bizarre changes he’d have to worry about.  Even his hand, which had been the ground zero for a gun exploding, was unscathed, save for a few slivers of metal buried in the skin.  

 

“Dojima?”

 

The sharp tone snapped him back.  “Sir, I don’t know how many times you need to me to say it, but I wasn’t expecting to find the escaped convict Adachi.  I was simply running errands with my family on my day off, and was alerted to a disturbance by an employee at the store.  I found the suspect, unconscious, suffering from burns on his chest and hand, in a back room.  Recognizing the suspect, I called for backup.  The suspect was transported to the hospital, and I came here to give my report."  He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing how bad he was at lying.  He glanced at the floor.  "I had no intention of disobeying orders, sir.”

 

The sergeant sighed, and after holding the detective’s gaze for a moment, pinched his nose.  “Look, Ryotaro…. you’re a good cop.  Despite what you may think, we don’t hold your former partner’s betrayal of the oath against you.  But… you’re not as young as you used to be, and we’d catch hell if our lead detective died in the line of duty, particularly with the news taking such interest in that serial murder case.  Top brass would like to desk you, but they’re willing to give you a chance to stay in the field.  They’re demanding you pass a full physical before I can do that, though.  Necessary precautions and all that.” The older man sighed, averting his gaze from the detective before him.  He knew this was bullshit, of course, but he also knew it would be his own ass on the line if he disagreed.  “Pass that, and they won’t have leg to stand on for keeping you off the beat, ok?  Good thing you stopped smoking, already…”  The pained smile didn’t reach the man’s eyes.

 

Dojima bowed, and turned on his heel out of the office.  He kept himself in check as far as the garage before letting out a snarl.  He really, really wanted to punch something…

 

“Careful, Dojima-sempai.  I don’t think that pillar could stand another impact.” His gazed snapped to the teenager a few feet away.

 

The older detective rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair and suddenly wished for a cigarette he didn’t need.  “Shirogane.  Did Yu…?”

 

Naoto shook her head.  “He did come to me with his concerns, but I had already guessed what had happened.  It wasn’t hard to piece together, what with your early leave the other day, the smashed pillar, and the previous strange behavior you had in the tv world.”  She offered him one of the take-away cups of coffee in her hand.  “I heard you were called into a meeting when I came to drop this off for you.  What did they say?”

 

Glad to have something to distract him, Dojima took a sip before answering.  “Admin’s not happy I brought Adachi in; they’re grasping at straws to bench me permanently.  Now they’re demanding I pass a physical before I can go back out.  They figure at my age, there’s no way I can pass muster, never mind most of the rookies can either…” He glanced back at the kid.  “Er, sorry.”

 

“No offense taken.” Shirogane smiled.  “I suspect they're going to be disappointed, then.  Did you really bend a piece rebar into a bow with your bare hands?”

 

Dojima took another sip of the coffee, not ready to answer that question just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so the Adachi fight wasn't the end. Probably gives him more questions than answers, really. Thankfully, guns are so rare in Japan, because being bulletproof would cause waaaay too many questions, particularly during a shoot out. 
> 
> Still, he's going to have a heck of a time explaining his physical results, if someone looks too closely. Who knew being a goddess appointed guardian would be such a pain?


	6. Hone

The smell of the hospital was much the same as it had been a year ago.  This time, however, the background chatter was not of serial murders and choking fog, but of much more simple things, like the complaints of patients and the events of the previous night.  It went a long way to ease Yu’s apprehension on being back there.

 

The security wasn’t particularly tight around the room of the convict; it only took a moment to find the guards, obviously bored out of their minds, distracted enough not to notice that the janitor was not the usual daytime staff member.  It was easy to see why security wasn’t particularly worried.  Adachi was fully trussed in soft restraints, but one look at the patient’s face suggested he was currently riding the bliss train of a cocktail of painkillers.  He was lucid enough to notice an uncommon visitor, however.

 

“Ooooh...hello mishter janitor…”  Adachi blinked for a moment before the face in front of him registered.  “Oh, ish you.  Did you come to gloat?  Or to make shure your uncle didn’t manage to kill me?”

 

Yu didn’t say anything, and as he suspected, he didn’t need to.

 

Adachi’s bandaged hand flailed against the restraints.  “Bad...bad enough I got beaten by bunch of snotnosed bratshs the first time…. W-what the hell happened to Dojima?  Bashtard’s fuckin’ lava handprint is gonna leave a scar, they said.  Mu-my hand’s gonna scar too… but now I gots to walk around with that old battle-axe’s brandsh on me?  Not fair….” Adachi tilted his chin to stare at the bandages at the base of his throat.  “Wash...was that really him?  Not shome persona dopple...dopple...copy, yeah?  D-did some goddessh bitch bang him into a god?  Haaaa, Dojima a god….he’d be the god of s-shupid detectives, drunks, and b-bad parenshs….heheheeee.”

 

“That’s not quite what happened….”  Yu faded off.  To be honest, no one was really sure *what* was happening to his uncle.

 

“Shupid asshole….bad enough they stuck me with the one cop who ackually did all his work… they shtuck me with… with the one hottie on the force to get th’chicks who dig men in uniform, but too...too shupid to know it...or let his partner have ‘em…”

 

Yu grimaced.  This wasn’t something he needed to hear… Adachi’s misogynistic ramblings… or that he seemed to think his uncle was hot...and not just the kind that put the burn on his chest.  “Adachi, did...you tell them what caused the burns?”

 

The convict’s head rolled back.  “Naaaah...nah.  Unckie Dojima’s secret powahs are safe.  S’not like they believe ol’ crazypanshs here.  But ish not fair...why did he get the cool schtuff?”

 

A silver eyebrow rose.  “Because the last time an elder goddess gave you powers, you used them to kill two women and terrorize an entire town.”

 

“Oh, yeaaaaah.”  Adachi’s eyes drooped.  “I’ma...I’ma gonna sleep now, ‘kay?  Bu...But...tell… Dojima… sh-sorry.  D-didn’t mean to do it.  Th….the….tv...world...messed...up...my...head….”

 

Yu said nothing as the former detective drifted off into a medication induced sleep. He quickly wiped a rag over surfaces to make it look like he’d just been tidying up, then slipped back out to the hall.  If he was lucky, his uncle would be out of his appointment shortly.

 

\-----

 

This was humiliating.

 

Beyond humiliating, really.  Worse than the time he almost arrested a visiting police chief...at least then he’d been allowed to keep his pants.  Last winter when he’d been stuck in this hospital, at least then he was actually hurt, and could blame his injuries for his sorry state.  Now he was here, mostly of his own free will, without pants.

 

Whoever invented hospital gown to open in the back should be shot.

 

“Now, Dojima-san, I’m just going to take your vitals before the doctor arrives.  Try to sit still, please.”  The nurse strapped two diodes to his fingers, measuring his heart rate and blood pressure.  The nurse noticed his confusion.  “You were expecting the big cuff and the stethoscope?  They upgraded the equipment last year, after the fog scare.  It’s a lot less invasive, and faster too.  Makes my job a whole lot easier.”  She read the screen and typed in a few notes.  “My, my... excellent.  They definitely try to keep you boys down at the police station in tip top condition, don’t they?  Some of the doctors could learn from your example, Dojima-san….”

 

Dojima bit his tongue from mentioning the police department had nothing to do with his good health, and were probably hoping he’d fail this physical exam spectacularly.  

 

She had him step on the scale, and a small tendril of dread crept through his gut when she raised an eyebrow suspiciously at the reading it was giving her.  The worry grew when she had him step off, then on again twice more.  “Hmm.  You’ve gained a bit of weight from our records last year, but that may be just due to your injuries.  I’ll make a notation to have the doctor formally check your BMI.”  Dojima had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he suspected he was going to be lectured about eating habits and avoiding take-away food.  

 

His temperature was next.  Again, the nurse’s eyebrow arched at the first reading, muttering about new-fangled equipment breaking easily.  She stuck the probe back under his tongue, and Dojima mentally willed the embers and ash to not screw this up.  If they find one reason he shouldn’t be in the field…

 

“I knew that last reading was a quack.  Nobody functions at 43⁰C.  A half degree above the norm, but that’s actually fairly common.”  A long breath of relief escaped his lips, wondering what the nurse would say about him copping to boiling a cup of coffee with his bare hand the other day, while getting frustrated over the insistence he needed to pass the physical again before he’d be allowed back at a crime scene.

 

Any joke he had in him left when he saw her pull out a sterile needle case.  “Scared of needles?”

 

 _Yes, but not for the reason you think, lady_ _._  How was he going to explain it when she couldn’t get the needle in him?

 

Sure enough, the first time she went for a vein, the nurse’s mouth tightened into a frown.  She tried again and tapped the skin lightly, then rolled her fingers to either side of the vein, sliding the needle in at glacial speed.  This time, he felt the prick of the syringe, and the nurse’s frown turned to a satisfied smirk.  “You’ve got some thick skin, but nothing I can’t handle.  We just need to fill three vials ...and we’re done.”   The vials in question were quickly labelled and bagged.  “Now, we just need to head over to cardiology for your stress test, and the doctor will look over your results.”

 

Dojima groaned, resigned to his fate.

 

\-----

 

He took it back; before was not the most humiliation he’d ever been put through.  No, being half-dressed on a treadmill with annoying wires stuck to him, while several nurses, doctors and technicians watched him run...that was truly the pinnacle of humiliation, even with his pants on.  Every couple of minutes, the tech would announce a speed increase, and an incline change.  He spent most of it contemplating a watermark near the ceiling, just to avoid the stares of the medical staff.

 

After what felt like an eon, the treadmill was slowed, the electrodes removed, and he was allowed to step off and take a long drink of water.  The next stop was the doctor’s office, to go over his results.  Dojima just hoped that there weren’t too many irregularities to raise suspicions, or for the administration to make good on their benching threats.  

 

The detective fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair as the doctor looked over the file in front of him, hemming and hawing at various results.  This felt like the various interrogations he’d done in his career; making the suspect wait to put them off kilter and have maximum impact when accusing them.  

 

The doctor finally looked up from the file, nodding.  “I must say, Dojima-san… your results are impressive for a man *half* your age.  You’ve made a remarkable recovery from your car accident last year.  I know the nurse had been mildly concerned about your weight, but a more detailed analysis from our exam shows that can only be attributed to muscle mass, and not a concern of fat.  Normally, with results like that, I might suggest taking it easy with the exercise for your body’s sake, but the stress test says there’s no issue there.  Whatever you're doing is having an excellent effect on you.  I can report that there is nothing here that would make me hesitate to recommend you back for full duty.”   

\-----

 

Dojima sighed with relief as he stepped into the hospital lobby.  His nephew looked up from a magazine that was probably older than he was, and followed his uncle out the door.

 

“How’d it go?”

 

Dojima scratched the back of his head, glad to be out of the stuffy hospital.  “The doctors gave me a clean bill of health.  Said everything came back ‘normal’.” He snorted at that.  “Guess people see what they want to see, huh?”  He slipped into the front seat of the car, and his nephew took the passenger seat.  “Did you….”

 

“Adachi’s fine.  Annoyed he’s going to have your, ah, 'brand' on him for the rest of his life according to the doctors, but fine.  He even apologized...sorta.  I think some of it was just the meds, though.”

 

Dojima snorted again, but this one held back a bitter laugh.  “Yeah, it’s hard to figure out how much of what he says is his true feelings, and how much of it is just him fitting what he knows you expect to hear.  And here I was starting to feel bad for burning him….”

 

Yu shook his head.  “Trust me, you do not need to feel sorry about Adachi.” With a moment’s hesitation, he relayed some of the convict’s medically induced ramblings.  At one point, Dojima had to pull the car over, he was laughing too hard at the nonsense being relayed to him.

 

“I swear, that idiot doesn’t take responsibility for anything… the little creep kept running his mouth around women, he was long beyond help, anyways.”  Dojima shook his head.  “He used to complain to me about seeing you with all your friends at Junes.  I should had realized what a monster he was from the beginning.”

 

Yu watched the landscape pass by, letting out a brief sigh.  “Unless we know the truth, we see what we want to see…”

 

Dojima stared ahead.  “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I didn’t believe you, even when everything pointed to something strange going on.  Still… I almost lost everything.  You kids saved us all….”

 

The car ride was silent for a while after that, until they were almost home.  “Nanako should be back from her friend’s house momentarily.  When she does, we’ll head to Junes and grab dinner, alright?” Dojima was struck by a thought and winced.  “...and I need to pick up a new safe. Damn, I forgot I did that.”

 

Yu blinked at his uncle.  “A safe?”

 

“Yeah...for copies of important documents, deeds and such.  I forgot to unlock it before opening it… it was the iron bar all over again.”  

His nephew smiled at him, seemingly unfazed at his uncle once again admitting to another superhuman feat. “At this point, you could probably make your own…”  The young man sniggered slightly.

 

Dojima shook his head at his nephew’s cavalier attitude. “Yeah, and how am I going to explain it when someone raids the house, looking for all those weapons you’ve been hiding?  No thanks.”

 

A drop of sweat beaded under the grey hair.  “Touche, uncle.”

 

\----

 

Nanako practically bounced into the house after they returned from Junes.  Only she could manage to make that annoying store jingle adorable.  “Daddy, hurry up!”

 

“Alright, alright! Slow down, Nanako….”

 

They settled around the kotatsu, and Nanako flipped the tv on as the family settled into a comfortable silence.

 

“In other news, police are still dealing with aftermath of the riot at the prison just outside of Inaba last week that led to three deaths and five convicts escaping.  We can now confirm one of those still on the run, Adachi Tohru, was recaptured two days ago, bringing the number of convicts missing down to three.”

 

Dojima grunted, staring at the three mugshots on the screen.  One of the pictures was a face the detective recognized; a former security guard who’d been caught running a robbery ring in the area.  He’d been caught after he’d put his longtime girlfriend in the hospital, and stupidly threatened her in front of a cop.  Seitou, if he remembered correctly. The other two he was unfamiliar with.  Hopefully, with passing his physical, Dojima would be able to look at their files.

 

“While the police say they are closing in on the escapees, they do warn those in the Inaba area to be careful, making sure to keep doors locked and not to leave running vehicles unattended.”  

 

Nanako bit her lip.  “Um, Big Bro, will you walk with me to school tomorrow?”

 

the young man nodded with a smile from across the table.  “Oh course, Nanako.”

 

Dojima smiled softly at the exchange.  “I want you both safe.”

 

Nanako nodded.  “Uh huh! And you’ll go catch the bad guys, right Daddy?”

 

He mirrored her nod. _Damned straight he would_ _._  “No matter what.  As I said, I want you both safe.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I enjoy stripping Dojima. MWAHAHA. 
> 
> As far as the bulletproof-ness of Dojima, I wanted it to be something a little more flexible. Come at it fast like a bullet, and it's like steel, but come at it slow, it's penetrable. The fire, too, responds to him, working with his emotions to keep him in fighting form. Which is fine most days, but piss him off enough, and you can cook an egg on him (or boil coffee). So...Battle Mode!Dojima, I guess? The strength is one thing that doesn't vary, so he's going to have to be careful.


	7. Part 2: Stance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough setup and melodrama. Now starts the action.

The setting sun splashed red over the manilla folder, open to the top page of the profile contained within it.  The dying sunlight distorted the picture attached to it, but one could still make out the distinguishing characteristics; hair slightly mussed but kept close cut, square jaw, stern eyes that spoke of overwork and cynicism, and a mouth that was a step away from a frown.  A small label below it identified the portrait’s subject in block characters: DOJIMA RYOTARO.  

 

The file was dropped unceremoniously to the desk below it.  “He passed?”

 

“With flying colors, sir.  I believe the physician noted we’d do well if half our force had his numbers.”

 

The older of the two men drummed his fingers on top of the profile.  “Surprising.  Seeing as everything indicated after the events of last December, he’d be lucky to meet bare minimum for his age, not just the entrance requirements.  Anything we know that changed this past year that might explain it?”

 

The younger man flipped through a stack of handwritten notes.  “Nothing particularly dramatic.  His nephew was living with him until March, wherein he returned to Tokyo to rejoin his parents.  That same nephew was the reason he was here during the incident at Takura Productions with the Love Meets Bond festival.”

 

“Hrmph, don’t remind me.  Had a hell of a time of keeping that one under wraps.  Thankfully, the last thing Takura wants is bad press about their idols being the center of a mass panic.”  The older man’s attention turned back to the file in front of him.  “Anything else?”

 

“Not really.  His nephew did come back to live with him shortly after that, to prepare for university.  His sergeant said there’d been nothing of note until riot.  Though he did exhibit some odd behavior afterwards.  Said that he suddenly quit smoking, full stop, and was observed to be much more restless than usual.”

 

“Nervous about something?”

 

The younger man shook his head.  “Not that we could dig up.  There was some speculation it had to with one of the escapees being Adachi Tohru, but otherwise, nothing.”  He handed over an envelope.  “The physician did say there were some abnormalities we should note, though.”

 

Inside the envelope were two x-rays, the dates at the bottom putting them a little over a year apart.  Both were torso shots, but the first was cloudy around the lungs, as if dirty, and several ribs were fractured.  The second one seemed to be of a younger person, with clear lungs and every bone practically glowing white.  “There’s got to be a mix up, here…”

 

“No, they tripled checked both records.  The first is from the time of the November incident with Namatame, and the second is from the physical.  The physician had his own doubts, but he personally handled the film.”

 

A frown pulled the older man’s lips together.  “Did someone take the physical for him?”

 

Again, the younger man shook his head.  “CCTV footage confirms it was him the entire time.”

 

The older man closed the file in front of him.  “Somehow the man’s had the clock turned back ten years.  Interesting.  Well, makes sidelining him a whole lot harder, but this might just play to our advantage.  Keep the infoscrape going.  Dismissed.”

 

As the younger man bowed and slinked out of the office, the older gentleman reopened the file to the portrait.  

 

“What’s your secret, hm?”

 

\-----

 

“Ahhh…!” Dojima caught himself.  Damnit, that was the third time in the last hour he’d tried to sneeze.  Was he coming down with something?  He didn’t feel like it.  He just felt...cold.

 

After they’d returned with Adachi, the fire that had driven him mad was slowly...ebbing, leaving him all the more aware of the colder air of winter.  Certainly, he still had moments of flare ups…he had to switch to a reusable metal canteen for his coffee, after the third paper cup he scorched set off the fire alarm.  Even still, he found himself shivering more often than not in the office, when before he’d complained about how warm they kept it.  He’d even started to keep his suit jacket on, which had caught the attention of a few of the younger detectives.  It had taken a more than a little self control to keep him from showing them what this ‘stuffy old cop’ could do.

 

His mind wandered over the past week, since he’d jump through the hoops and forced the higher ups to allow him back on the field.  While the fire had ebbed, none of his other new, ah, ‘abilities’ had shown any signs of abating.  Most of the time, it was easy to forget anything had changed; it wasn’t as if people were normally put into situations where they were being shot at, or pushing the limits of their strength.  Not even policemen, no matter how the media portrayed it.  

 

Which made it even worse when he did slip up.  Like this morning, when they’d gone to check on a lead on the location of one of the escaped convicts.  He’d gone and opened a door to the apartment… before it had been unlocked.  Thankfully, the building was old and rotten, so it had been easy to blame the doorknob in his hand on shoddy maintenance, and not his own strength.  It’d been a blessing in disguise, in the end; the witness was so rattled by the incident they’d offered up more information than originally expected.

 

Which is why he was now standing outside, in this bitter cold, with a few other plainclothes detectives, surrounding a rundown house on the  outskirts of Inaba. The building was the last known address of Seitou Noburo, wanted escaped convict, among other things.  Dojima adjusted the black leather gloves on his hands to hide a scan of the surroundings around his lookout position.

 

Seitou was a nasty asshole, that was for sure.  Dojima had worked on the original case as a rookie that had put him away eight years ago, and it still left a bitter taste in the detective’s mouth.  The man had orchestrated a series of violent robberies throughout the great Inaba area, and had been suspected of everything from weapon trafficking to even kidnapping for the North Koreans.  They’d never been able to pin most of it on him, even with the burden of proof on Seitou himself, but it said something when even the local members of yakuza had offered information on the man’s activities.  In the end, the only way they’d been able to pin him on any charges was when he’d gone too far in his abuse of his live in girlfriend, and had attempted to continue it in front of EMTs and the police officer they’d called to the scene.  That had been enough for a warrant to search his place.  Seitou was someone who had a grudge and a violent streak; no wonder they’d pulled every available officer for this takedown.

 

There was a sudden movement to his left, by the garage.  Dojima hid the turn of his head by making an adjustment to the sunglasses he wore.  The action, he realized, was just a stray cat stalking the high wall around the house, but it drew him to a glint through the bushes that overhung the garden.

 

He was halfway to his radio when the shot whizzed by his head.  There hadn’t been the sound of a gunshot...was the shooter using a silencer?  His thoughts were oddly calm as he zigzagged toward where he’d seen the gunman.  The fire that had been ash in his gut for the last week bloomed anew in him, directing him to dodge out of the way of the second shot.  His earpiece was squawking as the others scrambled to move on the house, but he ignored it for the most part.  There were four more shots at other officers, and Dojima had to grit his teeth when he heard one connect… thankfully, it was merely a graze.  A few more meters, and he’d be there… though what he’d do when he got there wasn’t entirely clear.

 

The roar of a car engine caught him off guard, and he nearly stumbled.  A large black car suddenly smashed through the garage door a meter away from him, sending fragments of wood and metal flying.  The driver must have spotted the detective, because several tonnes of steel and fiberglass swerved toward Dojima with frightening accuracy.  He didn’t have time to think, let alone dodge or grab his sidearm.

 

Fire screamed in his blood as he felt time slow around him.  The car was paused in front of him, the driver paused in his rage.  Dojima stepped to the side and in the same motion, drew the gun from under his coat.  Time began pick up speed again, and something told him that a shot wouldn’t be fast enough to stop the driver.  Still, the gun would be useful.

 

The safety glass of the driver side window crumpled around the gun as Dojima punched it through the passing vehicle.  He caught the driver’s jaw with the barrel, and he could feel the bone crack under the force. His arm stuck momentarily in the ruined mess of glass and plastic, the detective spun around almost a full circle until momentum pulled him free.  The vehicle careened into an electric pole, before the wall of an embankment brought it to a full stop.

 

It took Dojima a moment to jog up to the remains of the driver side window, several other officers not far behind.  In one glance, the detective knew two things.  One, the driver would live to see the inside of a jail side.  The second....

 

“It’s not Seitou!  I said, the driver is not Seitou!”  Dojima yelled into his radio, no longer bothering with keeping a blown cover.  The two younger officers had already pulled the driver from the car, assessing his injuries and looking for any IDs.

 

“EMTs are already on their way; but other than a mangled jaw,” Dojima winced slightly, “and a broken leg, he’s seems to be in one piece.  Nice shot, Dojima-san.”

 

“Hm?” The older detective was only half listening.

 

“I mean, none of us were expecting the car, and you managed to shoot the side window out fast enough to stop him...” the rest of the officer’s babble drifted away as Dojima ran back to the house, where the rest of the detail was swarming.  Damn, twice in one day he’d acted without thinking.   _How long before he pulls something off that he *can’t* explain away…?_

 

They’d already broken down the front door with a battering ram by the time he arrived, with others checking the garage and backyard, covering all the exits.  Chatter over his earpiece was constant.  “No sign of anyone in the back, moving forward,” and “First floor clear.  Anyone find where that smoke is coming from?”

 

_Smoke?_

 

Dojima scanned the foyer, nodding to the other officer on guard, who waved him in with his gun, as the man used his free hand to press a handkerchief to his face.   _What was he doing?_  Pulling off his sunglasses, Dojima wondered what he was missing here.

 

Smoky haze filled the room, almost obscuring everything in its path. _Wait, what? Where had this all come from?_ It felt like a fog rolled in when he’d blinked….

 

Fog.

 

His hands shook slightly as he looked down at the glasses in his hands.  He hadn’t even noticed they were the pair that Teddie kid had made him for the TV World when he’d grabbed them from his jacket.  He slipped them back on, and sure enough, the mist around him vanished.

 

 _Fuck_ , this was bad.

 

Taking out a tissue from his pocket, he pretended to heed his colleagues’ concerns about smoke inhalation, all the while grimacing at the implications.  Following the stairs upwards, he could hear the confusion.  

 

“Any sign of Seitou?”

 

One of the riot squad shook his head.  “Not yet.  Hitogami saw him flee up here, but we still can’t find anything beyond smoke, and well….”  Dojima didn’t need to guess what the other officer was mentioning.  With the TV glasses cutting through the fog, it wasn’t hard to see the dead man propped against a closet door, part of his head a bloody firework on the wall next him.  Kazuma Sera, one of the other escaped convicts from the jailbreak two weeks prior.  Seitou apparently hadn’t wanted to have his cellmate talking to police if he got caught.

 

No television in the room, which was a relief, even as fellow officers pulled up rugs and tatami mats, looking for a hiding spot.  Still, something caught the detective’s eye that he couldn’t ignore.  There was something odd about Kazuma’s body placement.  Dojima gingerly stepped around the dead man’s limbs, trying to figure out the trajectory of the shot.  It was almost as if he’d been shot by someone in the closet… but the door was closed…

 

His hand brushed the surface of the full length mirror on the door, and an icy thrill shot up his arm.  Dojima recoiled from the touch, and nearly tripped over the corpse’s legs behind him.  The mirror’s surface rippled for a moment, before once again becoming still.  Just like when his nephew put his hand through the TV at Junes.

 

Tipping his sunglasses and fighting to keep his breath calm, he watched the mist pour out of the mirror’s surface, like fog over a lake.  The mist was obviously slowing down, finally trickling to a stop, but no doubt this was the place of origin.

 

Seitou Noburo had left the building, and the fire in Dojima’s gut told him that the convict wasn’t done just yet.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you the physical could get Dojima in trouble! Someone's got it out for our hardboiled superdetective, and we don't know why. Who has he pissed off this time? And what mysterious force is he up against going after the escaped convict? Izanami might be no longer a threat, but she's not the only one in the taking over the world business.
> 
> So, yeah, hopefully this is a little more action packed for you folks. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated; they fuel this poor little soul to write more.


	8. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie finally makes an appearance, but how much help is she going to be? Is she the one really responsible for Dojima's changes?

“A mirror?”

 

The coffee hissed in the machine, boiling and angry.  The sound was a comfort to Dojima, reminding him of the days when he wasn’t so aware of the quagmires and red tape, or when he knew that there was things in the world that didn’t answer to the laws he’d vowed to uphold.  For most, coffee was a stimulant, putting them on edge.  For him, it was a safe haven; a little piece of zen that he managed to hold onto despite the world falling around him.  He savored the aroma for another moment before answering Shirogane.

 

“Yeah, a cheap 1,000 yen house mirror that you’d find in any Junes store.  I first worried it was just me, but the angle of the shot had to have come from it.  It was just like what happened when you brought me through, to go after Adachi.”  The older detective gathered his thoughts as he poured the coffee into a few mugs.  

 

Teddie, who’d they’d finally explained was not just a terribly naive kid with a bear fetish but an actual resident of the tv world, crinkled his nose in thought.  “That is beary strange.  There’s been nothing like mirrors showing up in my world, like before with the tvs.  Did you try any other mirrors afterwards, Pops?” 

 

Dojima reminded himself punching the kid would not help matters, no matter how grating that nickname was.  “Yeah, as best I could without anyone seeing me.  They were all solid.  Whatever made the mirror…’open’ was temporary, it seems.  Even the original one stopped reacting after about an hour.  I had considered securing it somehow, so Seitou couldn’t sneak back out, but I doubt he’d plan that if he’d known the police were swarming the house.  Even if he did come back out that way, there’s still half a dozen uniformed officers going over the place.”

 

“Rise and Teddie did a full sweep inside the tv as soon as Yu let us know about it, but neither one could sense anything out of the ordinary.” Shirogane tapped her chin thoughtfully.  “What concerns me is that, while this bears resemblance to our confrontation last year with Adachi and Izanami… it also deviates enough that we may be dealing with a whole new adversary altogether, like what occurred at the Love Meets Bond Festival.  The thought of someone like Seitou Noburo having access to such power… could be incredibly dangerous.”  

 

Dojima grimaced.  “Somehow I suspect this isn’t going to be a dance off contest.  If it is, I’ll leave that to you kids.”

 

“Aw, c’mon Pops!  If Nanako got any of her dancing ability from you, you’d be-” Whatever else Teddie was going say was stopped by Hanamura wisely slapping a hand over his mouth.

 

“Teddie, did you miss the memo that Dojima-san could probably kick your ass from here to Junes if you tick him off enough? I told you to drop the nicknames!” The failed attempt at a whisper tugged a smirk at the edge of the elder detective’s mouth.

 

“I don’t want any of you getting too involved with this.”  A hand went up to silence the noises of objection.  “Seitou is a convicted murderer.  While Adachi was too, he never got his hands dirty enough to break the rules of the sick little game he was playing.  Seitou doesn’t have any of those qualms.  We’re talking about a man who’d sell his own mother to the North Koreans if he could get something out of it.  Keeping an eye out for things going on in the TV World’s fine, but I’d feel better if you kept the real world sleuthing to those of us who are authorized to carry a deadly weapon.  Understood?”

 

The teens, save Shirogane, nodded reluctantly.  

 

They spent the next while filling in Dojima a little more about what had happened over the last two years, and trying to think up ways that they might be able to keep an eye out for Seitou without dealing with him directly.  It was only as they excused themselves did Teddie seem to remember something.

 

“Sensei! I almost forgot, I’m so beary sorry!  Marie said she’d like to meet you tomorrow, up on the hill.  Sensei, if you score, will you teach Teddie how to-”

 

Hanamura shoved the blonde shadow through the front door before he could finish.  “And that’s our cue to leave!  Damnit, you stupid bear, for once can you remember the important stuff without being an embarrassment to all of mankind?”

 

Dojima shook his head.  “Where the hell does he come up with stuff like that?  I’m suddenly regretting ever letting him around Nanako...”

 

His nephew shrugged.  “We’re pretty sure he doesn’t actually understand what it means.  He does know not to say it around Nanako at least, so I think it’s safe.  The worst he’ll probably do is teach her more bear puns.”

 

Dojima groaned at that, but smiled.  His nephew could have done a lot worse for friends here.

 

\------  

  
  


The former Velvet Room attendant known as Marie now sat next to him under the little gazebo looking over Inaba.  One moment the space had been empty, then suddenly she was, as if she convalesced out of the mist.

 

Knowing what her origins were, Yu suspected she probably had done just that.  She wore the suit he’d seen her often wear during her weather ‘reports’, so different from her outfit from her Velvet Room days, which had spoken of her teenage-like angst and confusion.  Now she seemed much older and sure of herself.  Or would, if her shoulders weren’t slumped and her blue cap wasn’t almost pulled over her eyes.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?  I’m still new to this whole ‘goddess’ thing.” Rather than look at him, Marie seemed to be engaged in a staring contest with a pebble on the ground.

 

“It’s nice to see you too.”

 

A sigh released from her, almost like a laugh, and the fog swirled a bit thicker.  “I keep forgetting how weird you are.  It is nice to see you again.  Sorry it’s not on better circumstances.”

 

Yu leaned back against the picnic table.  “Did...Izanami come back?  Is that what is going on?”

 

Marie let out a very unladylike snort.  “Hardly.  I’ve got her under lock and key in here,’ she put a hand to her heart, “No worries.  No, someone else is pulling the strings right now.  

 

She rolled her eyes, a grimace tugging at her lips. “I should have known something was up when I couldn’t take back Magatsu Izanagi from Adachi.  Couldn’t even slip mist in there to see what was going on in his cell.”  Confusion must have played across his face, because Marie paused to explain. “After he went to prison, I realized he still had that shard of Izanami in him.  I figured I’d visit him, give him a little zap, and presto, no more tv powers.  But every time I tried to show up at the detention center, I always ended up in the wrong place.  Couldn’t even walk there.  I figured I was still just scared of him, or it was that little piece of me trying to stay free.  Then three weeks ago, I suddenly could sense him again!  I noticed there was a riot going on, and he was right next to a suitable portal...so I  _ may _ have given him a tiny push.  I didn’t realize he was going to bring your uncle in there with him!”

 

Her gaze returned to the ground.  “Everything went wrong then.  Something else was controlling the prisoners and it was affecting the TV world too.  I’d...I’d… heard through the mist that something else was curious about Izanami’s plan, and I could feel them, locking me out of my own control of the TV world.  For a moment, even as I felt the group with your uncle and Adachi fall in, there was something else on the edge, escaping out of that horrible place, through the shadows.  Generally, gods don’t get up in each other’s business, so I tried to push them out.  It was...ugh, it was horrible whatever it was, and it shrugged me off like a fly.  I did get a feel of the people travelling within its power… and they were just, ugh, horrible!  Like Mara on steroids.”

 

Marie’s fists clenched on her dress pants as the tremor in her voice grew.  “When I was reeling from that…. Whatever it was locked me out of the dungeon that contained Adachi.  It must have been the same force from the prison.  I was back at square one….worse than that, really.  Man, I am such a fool....  Your uncle’s shadow showed up not long after that.” A small laugh escaped Marie as she wiped away a tear.  “It’s funny, your uncle’s shadow seemed to be perfectly accepting to call me a goddess and ask for my help to ‘bring out the true potential’ of his host.  It seems one of the things that he had denied was that some things are too strange to have a rational answer.  He knew who I was, both before and after I came back.”

 

A blue strip of paper floated into her hand.  The handwriting was blurred and faded, but the scrawl had become familiar to Yu over the two years.  “Everything just...crystallized, then.  I could feel his wishes slip from his hands, and the natural protector within him.  Give him a little push, and he’d naturally be attracted towards the guardian role for Inaba.  Just as you were drawn towards the position of the Wild Card, when Izanami first chose you.  It was a small dose of ambrosia, to keep him fighting…I wasn’t even sure it’d be enough to allow him to face his other self, to gain a persona….”

 

The mist swirled in eddies in front of them, as Yu processed everything the minor goddess was telling him.  “So what is happening to my uncle?”

 

Marie’s knees drew close to her as a sigh escaped her.  “I...even I don’t know.  Normally, the effects of ambrosia are temporary in such tiny doses- turn back the clock, give you a boost for a few days at most.  Your uncle… well, it’s not just wearing off.  He’s acting like a battery, building up and storing energy way past human levels.  Sure, even he can drain himself if he pushes himself hard enough, but somehow he’s still able to generate that energy beyond what he should be.  Honestly, the last time I or Izanami dealt with this sort of potential was Izanagi.  The original, I mean, the one your persona is based on, before he ascended.  Even if your uncle was full blooded descendant, a quarter dose wouldn’t push him so far into the legends class.”

 

“A quarter dose?”

 

“I...was worried it’d be too much for him.  He’s so rooted in reality, he was at risk of rejecting it and then it’d be like a poison to him, making him worse than he already was.  So, I cut the amount to even less than the standard blessing.  I’d hate to think what would he’d been like if I gave him any more.”

 

“Um, would this be a bad time to mention he hasn’t drank all of the bottle yet?”  Yu winced at the look of sheer horror on Marie’s face.

 

“ _WHAT?!_ Nononono, not possible.  No way your uncle can be that susceptible to magic.  I mean, if that was the case you’d think he was some reincarnation locked away in reality so he wouldn’t cause any trouble….oh.” Pieces seemed to fall into place with a soft gasp.  She looked at Yu.

 

“Oh, man...this is so not fair.  I thought for *sure* I was done being someone’s puppet. Rrgh!” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, sending the blue hat askew. “If I ever catch Philemon…”  Pushing herself off the picnic bench, Marie balled her fists with anger and stomped the ground.  “Look, Narukami, I need to get going, but keep an eye on your uncle.  I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I’ll bet there’s something bigger going on here.  I may not be able to interfere directly, but I will do what I can, ok?”

 

“What about the bottle? If it’s that dangerous, shouldn’t you take it back?” Gears spun in Yu’s head, trying to process everything Marie had told him.

 

Marie shook her head, brushing aside the mist with a wave.  “Gods can’t just take back what they’ve given to someone, just because it works too well.  That’s the rules.  Love you!”  

 

With that, the former Velvet Room resident turned goddess vanished into the mist as it dissipated into the late afternoon sunlight.


	9. Power

The next few days seemed to drag on forever.  No leads, no progress, just the endless shuffle to and from work.  

 

Something must have been bugging his nephew, because the young man seemed to draw his shoulders in when the detective arrived home, and began peppering the older man with strange, almost disjointed questions.  Yet whenever the questions turned back to Yu, the boy would suddenly straighten in his seat, deflecting the question.  Particularly when asked about the 'Marie' character from the TV world that had asked to see him.  Or anything about the shadow world lately.  It was the behavior of a guilty party, and Dojima was tempted to weedle the boy’s secrets out of him.  He knew better after last November, and wisely just humored his nephew, sure that eventually the silver haired teen would tell him what was going on.

 

He had been slightly concerned by the number of books on Japanese mythology his nephew had been bringing home and flipping through whenever he noticed his uncle.  “Didn’t peg you as one to be big on folklore.  Did something pique your interest?”  

 

The teen merely shook his head, shoulders drawing tight again.  “A friend mentioned something that made me curious.” Before the detective could press further, the young man changed the topic.  “How are you feeling?”

 

Dojima grunted at that question.  The chill had grown worse since the the failed arrest of Seitou, and even his sergeant had voiced his worry that Dojima was pushing himself too far.  “I know you’re worried that you’ve got to prove yourself all over again after the nonsense Adachi, but running yourself ragged isn’t going to help.  You already impressed brass with your quick thinking at the safehouse; so take a breather, ok?”

 

Once again, he wished he still craved cigarettes.  At least they gave his hands something to do when his brain spun out of control. Instead those fingers rubbed his temples as he willed himself not to overthink everything.  Only after the awkward silence continued to fill the kitchen, did he realize that his nephew was still waiting for an answer beyond a noncommittal grunt.  “I’m fine, Yu.  Just still a bit cold.”  He hardly wanted to admit he was missing the fire that driven him mad.  Another shiver shook him.  “Maybe I am coming down with something…”

 

Any further conversation was swallowed by the sound of the front door opening.  “Daddy, Big Bro, I’m home!”

 

Confusion flooded Dojima.  Did he forget the time?  With the convicts on the loose he’d been determined to keep a closer watch on Nanako, particularly after the sun set… while the father in him didn't want her to, Dojima had agreed to let her continue the various lessons she signed up for.  He’d just promised he’d pick her up from her lessons.  The kitchen clock read 6:30 pm, however…hadn't she told him the class went until 7?

 

The answer to Nanako’s early arrival stepped into the main hall a moment after the energetic girl.  “Hey, sempai...uh, Dojima-san.  Nanako was the only one at the knitting class tonight, so I offered to bring her home.”  The former trouble making Tatsumi ducked his head awkwardly at the two older men.  “Sorry, I shoulda called beforehand.  Guess people are still spooked to go out after dark…”

 

“Thank you for looking after her.”  Dojima motioned him inside, honestly thankful.  Funny how the glasses cut right through the punk image, even with the bleached hair.  Kid wasn’t a saint, but he’d done a lot to clean himself up in the past year, right down to teaching knitting and sewing classes at his family’s shop.  “We actually were planning to run errands after picking her up.  Do you want a ride home?”

 

Surprisingly, Tatsumi blushed. “Ah, I’m not going straight home...actually, uh…”

 

Puzzle pieces fell together in Dojima’s mind.  _Ah, that's right, he probably was going after the pintsized detective._   “Or the police station, if you were hoping to catch Naoto.  She did mention she was planning to stay late today.”

 

That sent the bleached blonde sputtering, blush rising to his cheeks.  “Wait, how did you… I mean, I dunno what yer… d-did Naoto say somethin’?” Ah, teenage love.  Tatsumi was redder than a tomato at this point.

 

“Not in as much, but I am a detective, son.”  That, and he’d have to be blind after seeing them leave the station more than a few times together.  He’d also gotten a good look at Shirogane’s phone background when she’d been pulling up a text.  It was almost painful how awkward the two of them were, but they seemed to make it work.  As long as he didn’t catch them messing around the police station ( _or, god forbid, Tatsumi knocked her up…_ ), it wasn’t any of his damned business.  

 

Yu was barely suppressing a smirk.  “I’m sure she’d be glad for the company, Kanji.  As you said, people are still nervous about going out, and the streets are pretty empty after dark…”  Dojima raised an eyebrow; how much of a matchmaker had his nephew being playing at the last year?  

 

Tatsumi was still blushing brighter than a stoplight.  “I-if you don’t mind...t-that’d be awes- I mean, I’d be really grateful, sir.”

 

The car ride was a silent affair, save for the occasional switching of the radio by Nanako.  They’d arrived at the police station just in time for Tatsumi to catch Shirogane walking out the main double doors.  She had smiled broadly at him, until she recognized the car he’d arrived in, and he boss and sempai grinning from the tinted windows.  It was almost cute, the way the two of them both turned the same shade of bright red.  Nanako began asking her ‘big bro’ if Kanji and Naoto were getting married, and Dojima decided that was his cue to change the subject.  "Let's leave them be.  What should we get from Junes?"

 

The department store was rather busy, despite the rather deserted streets.  Dojima let Nanako and Yu figure out what the house needed, and absently browsed up and down the aisles, not really seeing what was on the shelves.  He paused by a clerk offering samples of some discounted liquor, enticing shoppers with nonsense words about bouquets and woody notes.  Another chill hit the detective then, and the young lady must have noticed.  “Try a sample, sir? A good drink drives the cold right out.”

 

_There’s a bottle at home that would drive the chill away for good, if you’d just be willing to drink it._

 

The echoes of his shadow made the detective wince.   _Damnit, not now!_ He shook it off, and looked up to check if the clerk had noticed his odd behavior.  

 

“Sir?” The edges of his vision seemed to blur for a moment.  A young couple caught his peripheral vision; they were in the midst of rather violent argument, and in slow motion, he watched the man stagger back from a loud slap of her hand, right into the large case of sake next to them.  The shelves shook, and he could see the center of mass shift off balance, the megalith of alcohol tipping over in the direct path of the clerk.  The poor shopgirl had just enough time to scream, certain of her doom.  Dojima, moving on instinct, crossed the short distance and caught the edge of the heavy unit with one hand, stopping its crushing fall.  After a moment, he easily pushed it back into place with barely a grunt.  It felt like everything was still in slow motion...

 

Time snapped back into place.  The young Junes employee looked back and forth between her savior and the massive shelf that had almost squashed her flat.  “Oh my god...t-thank-”

 

Whatever else she was going to say was lost as her eyes rolled back in a dead faint, falling almost to the floor before he caught her.  Detective protocol kicked in, and he quickly checked her pulse and involuntary response.  She’d be fine; just a bit overwhelmed from the terror of the situation.

 

People behind him were beginning to murmur and ask what happened, with words such as 'incredible' and 'adrenaline' bantering around.  His nephew appeared through the mass of people, gently helping his uncle lower the young saleswoman to the floor.  Hanamura was a quick second behind, chattering away into a store radio, as the older man stood up from the floor.  “Oh, man, that was intense!  Dojima-san, are you alright?”

 

The detective took a moment to answer as he surveyed the scene.  Aside from a few askew bottles, the heavy shelf was no worse for wear...except for a small distinct bend in the upper shelf where he’d caught the damn thing.  He hoped no one else noticed…  “Thank you, I’m fine.  She’ll need a moment to recover, probably away from all these people.”  Hiding his embarrassment at all the attention ( _who was the awkward fool now, old man?_ ), he gingerly picked up the poor clerk and followed Hanamura to a small employee-only back room, sitting her on a couch.  

 

“Seriously, though, nice save out there, sir.  That shelf, fully loaded, can weigh almost half a ton...if anyone else had tried that, they’d be flattened like a pancake.  I’m sure Yuni-san is grateful for your save.” He nodded at the girl, who was already starting to rouse.  “Er, you probably want head back now.  I promise I'll make sure she's alright.  Thanks again, Dojima-san.”

 

The detective nodded and pushed his way back to the sales floor.  Yu waved him over, while Nanako grasped his hand, commenting on how her daddy was a hero in a sing song voice.  "Daddy, you saved the day!  You're so strong!"  That gave him something to think about on the silent ride home.   _Half a ton… that was 500 kilos… sure it had been at an angle, but it still was a lot_.  How much strength did he have these days?  He’d been so worried about getting caught doing something he couldn't explain, he hadn’t bothered to figure out what his upper limit was.  If he ended up in a situation where he didn't have a choice, he'd do more harm than good if he didn't know what was beyond even these supernatural abilities.  The idea was frightening, but better safe than sorry.

 

As Nanako dragged Yu into the house, Dojima lingered in the car park, working up the courage to go through with this frankly stupid test.  He took a quick glance around to make sure there were no prying eyes (besides the few stray cats that watched him with disinterest), and let out a rattling sigh.  Still feeling like an idiot, he steadied himself and leaned down to the bumper, grasping it with both palms.  Just as he strained against it, arms and legs beginning to protest and thinking about how foolish he was to attempt this, the car moved.  The front wheels rose an tenuous inch, then two.  While there was no way he’d be able to lift the whole thing, he’d still managed to lift the front of a 2 ton SUV up several inches off the ground.  He nearly dropped the whole thing, shocks be damned, at the realization of what he’d just done.  He stepped back, breathing heavily and staring at his arms like they where completely alien to him.  This was nuts.  

“Daddy! Dinner’s ready! Aren’t you coming inside?” Nanako’s voice called from the front door, snapping him out of his abject terror and back to reality.  

“Coming, sweetie.”  He stared at his hands for a moment longer, then wiped them in disgust on his slacks.  He’d deal with this revelation later.

 

\------

 

The house settled quietly as the night flowed through Inaba; Nanako was tucked in and fast asleep, and Yu was in his room, hopefully studying for his entrance exams.  After wrestling with a few more pieces of useless tips and leads on a few cases, Dojima gave up on distracting himself and retired to his own bedroom.  

 

The chill was getting worse now, even though he knew the house was well heated.  Just changing out of his clothes made him feel like he was going to lose digits to frostbite. A growl rose in his throat over the absurdity of it all.  Burning was preferable at this point.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but he knew what would fix this, however temporarily.

 

Ignoring the shivers wracking his body, he shuffled to the back closet and sat gingerly on the floor in front of the new safe he’d finally gotten, to replace the one he busted.  Delicately he thumbed the digits until Chisato’s birthday was entered in; the door swung open and he shuffled through the paperwork and small trinkets inside until his hand grasped what he was looking for.

 

The little ornate vial seemed to glow in the dark bedroom, the liquid sloshing gently against the etched glass.  He could feel a heat emanating from the bottle within his fingers.  What would happen if he took another drink?  There was no guarantee it would bring back the fire it had once ignited in him, or what new complications it could create.  He had a hard enough time keeping under the radar now, what good would it be to make it worse?

 

Something inside him shifted, and the voice of his shadow, slightly off key, voiced those thoughts he was denying.   _You miss the fire and the way it let you lose control.  You want to protect people, or you wouldn’t have risked exposure so often.  As scared as you are, this feels natural to you - maybe that what scares you more? - and you want to see how far the rabbit hole goes.  Better to go out in the blaze of glory than to freeze in failure._

 

The silver top hit the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t notice, his eyes squeezed shut.  The burn of the liquor was almost minimal this time, but he still almost choked after taking in less than a mouthful, slamming the bottle down with a quarter of the liquid still splashing angrily inside.  He swallowed, then sucked in air with quick gasps, trying to remember how to breathe.  A wave of warmth spread from his throat to his core, then out to his limbs, burning off the chills that had racked him moments before.  His blood hummed in his ears, strangely soothing and without the angry roar it once had.  Warmth blanketed his mind, drawing him towards sleep.

 

Dojima barely remembered corking the vial and placing it back in the safe.  Exhaustion suddenly overtaking him, he stripped off the extra layers he’d piled on before, chill long gone, and sunk into the futon, weighted down by slumber.  He was fast asleep in a matter of moments, unaware of the trickle of smoke that escaped his lips.

 

\----

 

_“Hoori.”_

 

Ryotaro frowned, eyes still adjusting to the light of the red room around him.  “Dunno who Hoori is.  M’name’s Ryotaro.  Dojima Ryotaro.” He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to focus.  Was he in a temple of some sort?

 

 _“Yes, you wear the humanity of this Ryotaro now.  You went by Hoori, long ago.  Before they quenched your fire and saddled you with a farmer’s scythe instead of your hunter’s bow.”_ None of this made any sense.  Where was this voice come from?  Still, something in the back of his mind dredged up bits of an old myth he’d learned in high school.  Something about a hunter prince of the mountain losing a fish hook and marrying the dragon princess under the sea.   _“You remember.”_

 

As his vision focused, he realized the voice that kept calling him Hoori was coming from the only other occupant in the red temple hall; a great golden dragon that lounged in a giant wave shaped throne.  “Kohryu…?”

 

_“Merely a disguise, so those who would keep you frail and human would not act before you regained yourself, my lost son-in-law.  How fares my grandchild?  Her mother misses her so.  Sadly, she could not stay on land forever.”_

 

Now Ryotaro was really confused.  Grandchild?  Chisato had been an orphan, as far as he;d known, and it would have been fairly obvious if he’d been a son-in-law to a dragon.  Still, there was great affection in the booming voice. “Nanako…she looks like her mother more and more... grows like a weed, too.  She’s taken up the piano.  But I don’t understand...Chisato…”

 

 _“Otohime still loves you, even as fate keeps you apart.  She followed you into the veil of humanity, even without guarantee she’d find you.  Your love was always stronger than even the myths that rules us all.  She still watches over you.  But this task is beyond her purview; this is a matter of the Gods.  It's time for you to hunt again, and you will need all the strength you once had.  Step forward Ryotaro who was once Hoori, and remember who you once were.  Say my name, so I might grant you my power to keep mankind safe.  Say my name, and regain the fire you once held.  Say my name!”_  The coils of the dragon shook with the growing boom of the dragon’s ethereal voice.  It was all Ryotaro could do to hold his ground as the roar crash over him like a wave.

 

 _Waves…_ A name rose up from the depths of his mind, filling his mind with visions of the ocean a violent sea.  

 

Moving on their own, his feet steadied and stepped forward to stand a hand’s breadth from the great dragon’s maw.  The sound of his own voice, calm and clear, surprised him as it answered the dragon’s call.

 

“Ryūjin…”

 

Gold scales evaporated in a blinding light, and coalesced into the humanesque form.  Blue armor mimicked dragon scales, and clawed gauntlets gripped an oversized kanabo that was studded with massive spikes.  A traditional samurai mask stylized with the features of the great creature hid the man’s face from Ryotaro, but the voice of the great Sea Dragon still reverberated in his skull.   _“I am thou...and thou art I...From the sea of thy soul, I come….”_ The booming voice was too much.  He was blacking out....

 

Dojima sat up from his bed with a start, his chest heaving and sweat dripping in his eyes.  Even as a deep, rolling laughter rang in his ears, the strange dream faded from his grasp.  Something involving past lives and dragons.  Probably read one too many bedtime fairy tales for Nanako.  Still, he knew what the dream had been, it had shaken him to his core.  A name tugged at the tip of his tongue.

 

“Ryūjin…?”  Something in his head and heart shifted in response.  His persona had… evolved? Changed? It felt deeper and stronger than the tenuous connection before.  The dragon was restless, and it was making his body sing with energy.

 

For the first time since this whole mess started, the spark of confidence grew within Dojima.  

 

He’d keep Inaba safe, no matter what.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar with Japanese mythology, Hoori (whose name originally contained the symbol of fire, but morphed to mean 'great harvest') was the youngest son of the god Ninigi-no-Mikoto, and known as the hunter prince of the mountain of fortune. After losing his elder brother's fishing hook, he ended up in the court of the Sea Dragon Ryūjin, and fell in love with his daughter, Princess Otohime. However, after seeing his bride's true form during the birth of their son, they are forced apart, and Hoori is left to return to his homeland to raise the child himself. (Sound a little familiar?) 
> 
> So Marie wasn't that far off- Dojima's got a secret that even he doesn't know about. How will this help or hurt him in his attempt to protect Inaba? That's for me to bang out, and hopefully for you to read! (The poor Dojima car; when he isn't making it do high speed chases, he was dooming the poor thing to a glorified barbell to show off with).
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me writing, and are greatly appreciated.


	10. Swing

There were many things that never should happen again, Tohru surmised, that kept happening anyways.  Entering the TV again, for instance.  Face the stupid group of teenagers again.  Have his former partner chew him out again.

 

One that he definitely hadn’t expected was to find himself, a little more than a month after his ‘escape’, sitting in a visitor’s booth, with Ryotaro Dojima, Inaba’s finest, on the other side of the bulletproof glass.

 

“D-Dojima?”  Something in the silent way the older man sat was setting alarm bells off in his head.  The senior detective had always been gruff (and to be honest, a little too violent), but never gave off the vibe of being any significant threat, particularly to one as...gifted at reading people as Tohru.  Now, the older man gave off the aura of an apex predator.  Someone, if given the motive, who’d tear your throat out without a second thought.  Still, the former jester of the Inaba police wasn’t about to tuck tail and beg.  “What, did you come by to make sure you didn’t kill me?  Or were you just interested in seeing your handiwork?”

 

Gripping the collar of the plain cotton shirt he wore, he pulled down roughly, exposing the slowly healing burn on his chest.  “Bad enough you caught me again, did you need to brand me with your stupid lava hand, too?  Your nephew never did tell me what had gotten into you….”

 

Dojima didn’t rise to the bait.  “Not everyone given power abuses it, Adachi.”  It was a little unnerving, seeing the detective so calm.  The older man was usually a bundle of frayed nerves and too short patience, and it took the smallest annoyance to set him off.  Not now, and that worried his former partner.  He’d always been able to easily read Dojima, know which button to push, and it was no fun if he'd lost his touch.  “Are you done whining, or should I come back after you’ve had a nap?”

 

 _Two could play at this game, Dojima._  “I was just curious.  Didn’t figure you’d be such a masochist to come back after our last encounter.”  The burn was starting to itch a bit, and he desperately wanted to scratch it, despite the prison doctor’s orders.  “So, what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

 

“Seitou Noburo.”

 

 _Oh ho._  “Aaah, what a pain.  Still haven’t caught him, I take it?  What, were you hoping I’d spill some juicy tidbits of where he might be?  Give me a break, Dojima.  I’m not your little gopher anymore.”

 

The older man shifted closer to the glass.  “He escaped through a space like the world behind the tvs.  But something tells me you already guessed that.  If you know anything about where he might be headed….”

 

Tohru smirked.  “Or what?  You gonna curse at me through the glass?”

 

The shake of the head was slow and deliberate, mocking Tohru worse than the names he’d been called when he ‘bungled’ a case.  “No, I think your pride would make yourself more willing to help.  Otherwise….” The older man cocked a finger back, as if he was going to flick a bug on the glass separating them. Instead, the finger snapped forward….

 

“Crap!”  Tohru instinctively scrambled back in his chair.  Cracks spread like lightning from the point of impact on the glass, as if it had been shot.  The plastic reinforcement kept it in one piece, if only barely.  He’d assumed his former partner’s actions in the TV world were driven by his newly acquired Persona, but those forces didn’t manifest on this side of the screen.  Somehow, those rules didn’t apply to Ryotaro Dojima.  Tohru wondered briefly what would happen if the man had flicked someone’s head.  Klaxons were going off the convict's brain, telling him to retreat.  

 

Fuck a predator, his former boss was a goddamn monster.

 

“Tch.  Cat got your tongue, Adachi?  That would be a first.”  The smirk on the older man was infuriating.  “Relax.  Not everyone who ends up with a supernatural power decides to use it for murder and giggles.”

 

“You’re a flaming asshole, just so you know.”

 

“Nah, that’s just your reflection, Adachi.  Anyways, as much fun as this banter is, it’s not what I came here for.  Despite your psychopathic tendencies, you were a half decent detective.  You’d probably notice something off long before any of the guards would.”

 

That much was true, even though he knew the old man was just saying that to butter him up to get him to talk.  “Seitou practically ran this place, not that those stupid idiots would ever admit to it.  Contraband, drugs, cigarettes, you name it, he got it in here.  Even got extra shit for his cell.”

 

“What kind of stuff for his cell?”  Superpowered freak or not, Tohru noted, Dojima still tensed his shoulders when he took interest in something a suspect said during an interrogation.

 

“Eh, nothing that interesting.  Nicer mattress, cable tv,” The shoulders stayed relaxed, “brand new clothes, brand new furnishings… asshole even got a custom mirror brought in.” _Bingo.  Still got it, Tohru._  “Nothing particularly exotic.  Dunno what drugs he brought in, they weren’t about to share that with a stupid cop, murderer or not.”

 

“Hm.  You were always good at making people assume you were lazy idiot.  Not that big of a stretch-”  The rest of the insult was lost with the announcement that visiting hours were over.

 

“Finally! Aah, Dojima, next time you visit, could you do it without the interrogation?  I don’t want to do police work unless I get paid for it.”  Ugh, his legs were practically asleep from sitting in these awful chairs.  Now was as good a time as any to mention a little trump card he’d been saving for this meeting.  “Oh, yeah.  A couple of paper pushers from Central HQ came by the other day, asking about you.  Seemed they wanted to know if I noticed anything different about you during the break out and arrest.  I told them you were still as much a pain in the ass as ever.” The expression of the older man stayed neutral, but his former partner knew to read the telltale twitch of a jaw muscle.  Sadly, he’d have to wait to ask about that another time, and Tohru enjoyed the idea of leaving Dojima stewing in worry.  

 

He raised his arms behind him, expecting the restraints that were so customary in prison.  When they didn't come, he turned to see what the holdup was, and was greeted with a beautiful sight.  The annoying guard who’d come to escort him back to his cell was speechless, sputtering at the sight of the smashed protective glass.  Tohru had to stifle a laugh at the buffoon’s fish impression, it was priceless.  He hadn’t had such fun at another’s expense in months.  So what if he had to know the fact his former boss was some overpowered freak now, at least locked up, he didn’t have to deal with it.

 

\----

 

A sigh escaped Dojima’s lips as he made his way back out the jail’s front office.  Stupid, showing off like that.  Who knows how the twisted former cop would use such information, particularly if someone was asking around about him.  Not that he could take anything Adachi said at face value; even in prison, the younger man knew how to talk out of both sides of his mouth.

 

It was fun to see Adachi freak out like that, though.  After over a year of dealing with him teasing and insulting him every visit, reveling in his betrayal, it was sweet revenge to see him genuinely flustered and unprepared with a witty comeback.

 

 _Sometimes people need to be reminded who really has the power_.  Dojima grunted as Ryūjin chortled in the back of mind.  For some reason, since this Persona of his had ‘evolved’ (as Yu had put it) it had become a lot more ‘chatty’.  Sometimes it was just a feeling, or an inhuman echo; other times was full on commentary.  Whatever hidden aspect of his personality created him, it apparently was rather violent given its suggestion.  That observation had resulted in another round of laughter and vague murmurs about how jellyfish lost their bones.  Still, Dojima refused to give in.

 

Using his newfound strength to bully and frighten people, even convicted murderers, made him no better than Adachi, really.  He was better than this; he had to be, if not for his own sake, then for Nanako, and Yu, too.  

 

 _And that is why you are different than this Adachi_.  Perhaps, Dojima hummed tunelessly; but the temptation was still there.  Take yesterday.

 

With Seitou still on the run, the task force in charge of bringing him was left to spend their time chasing down false leads, interrogate old associates, and generally chase their tails.  Since multiple precincts were working together, he’d been assigned to work with another detective from the next town over.  He was familiar with this particular failure of academy screening a little too well; the heavyset asshole had been in charge of building the case against Adachi.  Or at least, had been originally; five months in, the idiot had resorted to brute force and drawing his gun on the suspect, resulting in suspension and a mandatory psych evaluation.  He’d even had the gall to try and push around Dojima during the case; trying to get him to sign off on 'taking care' of the black spot on Inaba Police's rolls.  Adachi even claimed the man thought the killer cop had learned his ways from his former boss.  The older detective knew to take whatever the convict with a grain of salt, but the corrupt asshole had done nothing to disprove the suggestion with his constant complaints and muttering about 'hicks in the sticks'.

 

Someone in HQ really was determined to make his life miserable, Dojima decided, halfway through the canvas.  He was supposed to be the lead detective here, but that was hard to tell with the way the other man bullied his way into every conversation.  More than once, the self important asshole had frightened cooperating sources into shutting down completely.  What’s more, the running commentary the other detective provided was tampering with testimonies, and filled with thinly disguised barbs directed into his ‘partner’s’ back.  

 

By the time they returned to the station, Dojima was ready to consider joining Adachi in prison if only for the pleasure of shoving his fist full force through this blowhard’s face.  Every ounce of self control kept his hands clenched on the steering wheel.

 

“Hrmph.  What a waste of time *that* was.  I knew you’d be no help.  Nothing but idiots in Inaba, that’s for sure.”  The sneer did little to calm the cold rage Dojima felt against the man.

 

The detective watched silently as the portly police officer walked back towards the precinct, pausing only to haphazardly threw his briefcase in the backseat of a car far too nice for a detective’s salary. Only when did the disgrace of a man disappear through the office doors did Dojima sigh, and dare to leave the safety of his vehicle.  He did not want to bother with the hassle of filling out an official complaint, but they'd never get anywhere with such an inept man ruin any gains they made.

 

Walking towards the main doors, he paused at the asshole’s car, pausing for a better look.  One of those ridiculously expensive European models, it was clear that it had never seen a police chase or even a speck of mud.  No doubt paid with kickbacks and bribes.

 

A quick scan of the car park confirmed he was alone as far as the eye could see, and the view of the building into the area was obscured at this angle. Even the cameras were out of range.   _Perfect_.

 

The fire that bubbled up in his core was like an old friend, responding to all the pent up rage and frustration in him, feeding on it, until every nerve in his body practically sang with energy.  With great care, he rolled his sleeves to their customary position above his elbows, and took deep, focused breath.  He cocked his arm, mimicking a baseball player ready to make a fastball throw.

 

WHAM.

 

The fist sounded like a gunshot as Dojima’s swing connected solidly with the black hood, punching through layers of metal and engine, until it ripped through the underchassis.  The ghost of a smile spread over his lips as he began to straightened back up, all the anger and frustration of the day gone in a flash.  The impacted metal tried to hold his arm firmly in place for a moment; the front of the car clinging until it was almost a full foot off the ground, before losing its grip and slamming back to earth with a sickening bounce.  Steam now rose steadily from the brand new hole, and oil began to pool like blood on the asphalt.  With his mood greatly improved, Dojima slung his coat back over his shoulder and continued to back to the station.

 

He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as the sound of a distorted car alarm began just as the main doors closed behind him.  Not even the booming laughter of Ryūjin could drown out the sweet noise.     

 

\------

 

“Whoa, Dojima-san did _that_ to a car?” Chie snatched the flip phone from Naoto’s hand, staring at the screen with awe.

 

Naoto clicked her tongue in annoyance.  “Well, most of the precinct surmised it was a freak accident of some sort; some suggested it was possibly a meteor, or some other act of god.  And while this could be a valid conclusion, the said owner of the vehicle was a particularly nasty corrupt detective that Dojima-san had been forced to conduct a canvas with.  The officer had been in charge of putting the case together on Adachi, until an incident forced him to step down.  While I am not normally one to put any faith in hearsay, it is said that the man had attempted to connect Adachi’s actions to his senior, putting Dojima-san’s reputation through mud until Adachi's case concluded.”

 

Yukiko looked over Chie’s shoulder.  “Still, are you sure Dojima-san did this?  It seems a bit rash, even for him.”

 

The junior detective smiled.  “While I do not have any decisive proof to support my claim, I will mention Dojima-san looked positively content when he walked back into the station, just as the vehicle’s anti-theft device began.  He also had a small smear of what I suspect was oil on his forearm when I conversed with him, later that afternoon.”

 

Kanji’s mouth gaped at the succession of photos of the ruined car.  “Hell, man, remind me never to get of Dojima-san’s bad side.  I know you said that something fucked with him in the tv world, but this is some Superman level shit.”

 

“No kidding.  Yuni-san won’t shut up these days about the ‘tall dark stranger’ who came to her rescue the other night.”  Yosuke fell onto the picnic bench with exhaustion.  “I gotta say, I’m glad he’s on our side this time.”

 

“Seriously!  Man, it’s like one of my favorite movies: humble cop by day, superhero by night!  Wha-TAAAH!”  Everyone ducked the wild kick the that accompanied Chie’s enthused outburst.

 

“Do you really think Dojima-san’s one to take up vigilantism, Chie?  C’mon, the guy’s so by the book you’d find his picture next to the dictionary entry for ‘hardboiled detective’.”  Yosuke grimaced at the picture of the ruin car.  “Aw man, it’s such a shame he ruined such a nice car.”

 

“Shut up, Yosuke!” The other teens chorused.  

 

“At least he seems more at ease about all this, now.  When he came with us after Adachi, he seemed really overwhelmed.”  Yukiko mused.

 

"Well, kinda understandable.  Hard to deny our story is true when your seeing it with your own eyes."  Yosuke sighed.

 

“Yeah, Pops is really great!  Sensei says his Persona has evolved already!  He and Pops visited the other day to practice and go over some stuff, and Sensei was super impressed.”  Everyone stared wide eyed at Teddie.

 

“Wha- already?! That’s freaking nuts!”

 

“Whatever is going on here, I can only hope that our luck holds, and we’re not getting him in over his head.  We can profess ignorance should people become suspicious of our actions; we’re merely teens to many who'd might come after us.  Dojima doesn’t have that luxury.”  Naoto warned.

 

“We can only hope whatever we’re up against, we’re prepared for when it strikes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaaaaaaah, sorry, I just wanted Dojima to enjoy himself for once before I got back to torturing him. Apparently, that means getting to punch through a car. I guess since obtaining Ryūjin, he's gotten a bit stronger....
> 
> Again, comments and kudos keep me writing. :)


	11. Hit

Drip.

In an empty men's room, a discarded black suitcase sat alone against the sink.  The florescent lights above dimmed and fizzled, creating the illusion that the surface of the wall mirror rippled, as if something had just penetrated the reflective membrane.

Drip.

 

* * *

 

 

A week after the new year, snow dusted the relatively quiet Inaba streets, slowing the foot traffic around Junes to a lethargic trickle.  This suited Yu just fine; with less people about, Nanako was happy to dance along the sidewalk next to him, trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. “Big Bro! I got one!”  Her laugh was warm, muffled slightly by the thick woolen scarf Kanji had taught her how to make, and the blanket of snow that settled around them.

 

“Nanako, do you know why it’s so hard to catch snowflakes on your tongue?”  Naoto walked up from behind them, smiling at the shake of younger girl’s head.  “Your tongue is much warmer than the air around it, and it makes the air around it move faster.  So the flakes ride that warm current away from your tongue, making it harder to catch them.”

 

Nanako’s eyes went wide with awe.  “That’s why the snow never lands on Daddy, then!  Even when we built snow-teddies in front of house, Daddy didn’t get any snow on him.  He’s always so warm, the snow just avoids him.”  She giggled at the idea.

 

Naoto raised her eyebrows as she looked to her sempai.  “That’s… very possible, Nanako-chan….”

 

Yu nodded at Naoto’s unspoken question.  “We rarely need to turn on the kotatsu when he’s home these days.  Thankfully, he still keeps the heat on in the house.”

 

“Hm, he must be feeling better, then.  I did note he was back to keeping his jacket off at the station again.  Pity, the junior detectives were starting to pick up his better attire habits.”

 

Nanako had circled around back behind them, chatting away with Kanji, who’d finally caught up from behind.  The young detective took the opportunity to speak more candidly.  “I thought that you and and your uncle should know…. Someone from the Metropolitan Police HQ came by my apartment this morning to ask about Dojima-san.  Wanted to know if I’d noticed anything odd about him lately, or if I’d noticed any different in his habits.”

 

The look of alarm on her sempai’s face mirrored how she’d felt when the officer had started rattling off the questions.  “I brushed him off, of course, and asked if there was an inquiry going on.  The man said it was merely a formality for Dojima’s candidacy for promotion.”

 

“Uncle has never even tried to take the exam…He’s always said he’d never want to be chained to a desk.”

 

The blue cap bobbed in agreement.  “I can only assume either they were unaware of how well I know Dojima-san, or more worryingly, they wanted to raise my suspicions about their questioning.  It was...disconcerting, to say the least.  Particularly with many of the questions focused on Dojima-san’s health.  I told them he’d been slightly under the weather for a while, but after last week, he seemed quite fit for duty.”  Blue gloves tapped her chin as she sighed.  “Sadly, I don’t think I was the only one they’ve questioned.”

 

Made sense; if they were going to be looking for information on his uncle, they wouldn’t just stop with an underaged consulting detective.  “But… why?  Is this because of the prison incident?”

 

A hand fidgeted with the brim of cap.  “I thought that myself, so I made some inquiries.  The officer who came to me had offered a pseudonym, but I managed to track down his actual name through some… less than official routes.  I was alarmed that it turned out to be a false name to begin with, but even worse that he’s been on assignment from the Metropolitan Police Central HQ for the last three months.  He’s apparently been keeping an eye on Inaba, and Dojima-san, for this entire time.  Naturally, given what’s happened recently, I had concerns on what the man could be trying to find out.”

 

“I’m still waiting to hear back from some more secure sources, but...as best I can tell, the officer reports directly to a section of internal affairs that officially doesn’t exist, but is known as a ‘career killer’ among Metropolitan Police.  It seems Dojima-san’s concerns about them planning on forcing him into deskwork was not all that far off.”  A sigh hissed through Naoto’s teeth, the warm air looking like the smoke from a cigarette.

 

“But...he passed the physical… Why are they still asking about his health?”  Yu watched as Nanako, giggling, pretended to be a monster crushing the tiny snowmen Kanji had made.  

 

“Again, I don’t know yet.  I’ll keep looking into it.”  Naoto offered him a small smile.  “Your uncle has more respect than I suspect he realizes.  Anyone wishing to dig up secrets will have a hard time finding anyone willing to aid in such an endeavor.”

 

The rest of the conversation was lost as Nanako lobbed a snowball past her ‘big brother’s’ head. Kanji’s aim, however, was a bit more on the mark, and his snowball sailed in a wide arc before it splattered across the dark blue jacket of the young detective.  A low rumble shook them all briefly as they scrambled for ammo; probably a snow plow making its way through the Junes car park.  A few more snowballs passed between them, as Nanako switched teams to help her big bro pelt the two younger teens.  Finally they laughed at their soggy mess and made their way into the warmth of the store.

 

* * *

 

_“Anything to report?”_

 

“I spoke with Detective Shirogane this morning, sir, and as suspected, she saw through the questioning.  She met with the subject’s nephew shortly afterward.”

 

_“As expected.  Any activity from the subject since last week’s incident?”_

 

“Nothing as flashy as the car destruction.  There’s been small incidents, but nothing that could conclusively linked to interference on the subject’s part.  He’s keeping his head low.  Should we pull back and simply keep up surveillance?”    

 

_“No, no need for that.  It’s better to keep the subject on his toes, and he’ll be less likely to draw outside interest this way.  The last thing we need to do is have the Kirijo group poking their noses in our case.  I must say that this has become frighteningly interesting, and it'd be a shame to lose it to a group of outsiders.”_

 

“Understood, sir.”

 

* * *

 

The afternoon was wonderfully slow inside the department store, with the girls trying to suggest ideas for Nanako to cook, and the boys desperately trying to keep her from actually trying them.  Yosuke, despite being on the clock, was happy to show Junes' number one fan some of the ‘secret’ back areas around the store, while promising to send Teddie over later to say hi to her.  Sometimes, Yu wasn’t sure if Nanako preferred the store, or the people inside it that went out of their way to dote on the small girl.

 

“Big Bro, is there something wrong with Daddy?”

 

The question caught Yu off guard.  “What?”

 

Blue snow boots kicked the empty air under her seat at the Junes Food Court.  “You and all your friends keep talking about him being different, and you look worried when you were discussing him earlier.  I know that you get a fever when you get sick….Is Daddy sick?  Does he not want to tell me?”

 

Yu’s brain scrambled for what to say from the various options that presented themselves.  Should he tell her the truth?  Does he explain her dad isn’t sick, but brush off her concern? Or does he lie?  “Nanako, does your dad act like he’s sick to you?”

 

Her tiny mouth frowned.  “No… he’s like, the opposite of sick. He plays with me more often when he comes home, and he doesn’t fall asleep in front of the tv as much anymore.”  She nibbled her lower lip.  “But I know he doesn’t tell me stuff ‘cause he thinks I’m too little.  I’m not little anymore!  I’m big girl!”  

 

Yu smiled at that.  “Well, you are definitely a big girl, but your dad wants to keep you safe.  You’re very, very important to him.”

 

A shy nod bobbed the not-quite-little girl’s head.  “But you’d tell me if something was wrong with Daddy, right?”

 

Oh, how he wish he didn’t have to lie to her...even if in the technical sense, there wasn’t anything ‘wrong’ with her father.  “Of course I would.  Anyways, I don’t think your dad is sick.  He doesn’t sound sick to me.”

 

“Don’t worry, Nana-chan!  Pops is suuuuper healthy! In fact, I’m downright bear-lous of him!  Not only does he get the bear-y great honor of living with both Sensei AND Nana-chan, he’s immune to the cold!”  The blonde boy collapsed onto the food court bench next to her, a playful pout on his face.

 

Nanako, her fears momentarily forgotten, giggled at her friend’s mock jealousy.  “Teddie!”

 

“Oh, Sensei,”  Teddie looked up to the older boy, who had stood up, “before I forget, Yosuke said to stop by the electronics section right away.”

 

He was barely two steps inside when the brunette was waving him over frantically.  “Hey!”

 

A ball of worry sank into his stomach at the nervous look on his friend’s face.  Yosuke only looked like that when something was really wrong… he followed Yosuke’s finger to the large displays that had been their entrance to the realm of Shadows for so long.  Had something happened in the TV World? Slowly, it dawned on him that the TVs themselves weren’t the issue, but what was on their screens: every TV in the department was playing a variation of the same newscast, breaking news blinking angrily from each.  Behind the reporters was a vaguely familiar office building, engulfed in flames.  Every few seconds, the footage looped back to the building, whole, only to become a fireball in one terrifying blast.  

 

“Sorry, I would have run and gotten you as soon as it came on, but I knew Nanako was with you and Naoto said she’d make some calls to be sure, but…”  Yosuke’s voice drifted off.

 

Grey eyes widened in fear as he realized where he’d seen the building before, just before the newscaster confirmed his terror.

 

The Inaba Police Precinct.

 

_“While we’re still waiting for an official response, shortly after the upper floors of the Inaba Police Station were engulfed in an explosion, video surfaced online taking credit for the destruction.  The man in the video matches the mugshots of Seitou Noburo, the escaped convict from the prison breakout in late November of last year.  At the time we cannot confirm or deny that…”_

 

“When did it happen?”  The tremor in his voice betrayed how close he was to breaking apart.

 

“About 20 minutes ago, I think.  One of the girls on their break saw it and turned on the tv out here….I’m...I’m sorry, partner.  Naoto’s said she’d call as soon as she had any news on her end… she and Kanji split to get to the scene as soon as they saw.”  Yosuke tried to think of what else to say.  “Look, if anyone was going to come out of this alive, you know it’s Dojima-san, right?  Even before all the weird stuff that happened in the TV world, he didn’t let anything stop him…”

 

Whatever Yu might have said was cut short by the angry buzzing of cell phone in his jacket pocket.  The caller ID flashed: _Restricted phone number_.  Trying desperately to keep his voice steady, he flipped it open.  “H-hello?”

 

“Yu, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news-”

 

His shoulders collapsed inward with relief at the gruff voice on the other end.  “Uncle, thank goodness, we just saw the news broadcast here at Junes-”

 

His uncle muttered something unintelligible to someone in the background.  It sounded a bit like a string of curses.  “Damn. Did Nanako see anything?”

 

“No… she’s in the food court with Teddie right now.”

 

“Good.  If you can, keep her from seeing it.  I want you to get home as quickly as possible, lock all the doors and stay away from the windows.  I don’t want either of you taking unnecessary risks.  Don’t talk to any reporters; unfortunately, one of the idiots from the case last year recognized me and tried to rope me into making a statement, and there are enough slimeballs out that have no issue plastering innocent kids on the news.  I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

 

Bile rose up the back of his throat.  “Was...how bad is it?”

 

The sigh from the other end of the line told that it wasn’t good.  “It’s…. Well, I’ll tell you later.  They collected everyone’s phones at the moment.  I call you when I can.”

 

“Alright.  Please, Uncle, take care of yourself.  Uh… Naoto said someone from the city police questioned her this morning about you.  I thought I should tell you, just in case.”

 

“What?  Goddamn, they aren’t letting this drop, are they."  There was sickening crunch on the other end, and Yu hoped that whatever his uncle was taking his anger out on, it wasn't too important.  Or noticeable.  "Maybe if they spent more time investigating the actual criminals instead of their own force they’d… nevermind.  Thanks for telling me.  I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

 

The cell beeped in Yu’s ear; his uncle had hung up.  His questions about what was going on would have to wait.

 

* * *

 

The small kitchen was quiet save for the sound of boiling liquids and the occasional hiss of hot oil.  “Do you think he’ll be home soon, Big Bro?”

 

The spoon paused from its circular pattern.  “I’m not sure, Nanako... I hope it’s soon, but-”

 

His words paused at the sound of an engine and the garage gate closing.

 

Pork cutlets were abandoned as Nanako shot off her stool.  She practically lunged at her father while he was still halfway in the doorway.  “DADDY! I was so worried!”  Small tears threatened to spill as she looked up into tired but familiar eyes.  “Big Bro kept trying to not let me watch the news, but I knew something bad had happened so he had to tell me about the fire!  It looked so scary, but I knew you were safe so I could handle it!"  The stream of babble coming out of the girl paused to hug her father's waist.  "Aaah, Daddy!  Your pants are all torn up!”

 

Indeed, Dojima looked like he’d quite literally been through hell.  Soot and ash dotted his face and arms like camouflage, and his hair looked half plastered with sweat.  As Nanako had observed, half of his right pant leg was torn off, and his left had several tears, burnt edges and holes.  The only thing that seemed intact was his shirt, but that was probably due to the fact that it definitely wasn’t his to start off with.   The crisp white shirt was at least two sizes too big, and probably had been lent to him by a colleague.  Catching his uncle’s tired eyes, Yu mouthed an apology.

 

“Nanako…”  Dojima sank to one knee to better gather his little girl in his grasp.  She grasped him tight, letting her father sweep her up with one arm.  “Don’t be mad at your cousin.  I asked him not to show you, because I didn’t want you to worry.  I just wanted to keep you safe.”

 

“Daddy, I’m a big girl, though! Stop treating me like a little kid!”

 

Dojima raised an eyebrow at his daughter’s declaration.  “Ah, so I should put you down, then?”

 

Nanako’s ears turned pink as she buried her face in the collar of the borrowed shirt.  “Ummm… no, that’s ok.  I don’t have to be a big girl all the time, just yet…”  Her father smiled at the admission, keeping her close as he pulled out the drinks for dinner, trying to wash the day from his mind.

 

Even the biggest of girls tire out from so much worry and excitement; shortly after dinner, Nanako was tucked into her futon, fast asleep for the night.  Yu waited patiently, both eager and hesitant to know what had happened at the police station.  He suspected the version of events coaxed out at dinner was highly edited for Nanako’s sake.

 

Heavy footfalls on the stairs announced his uncle’s return.  The man looked more tired than he had in months.  Wordlessly, the detective flipped the TV on.

 

_“-The big story tonight is the apparent bombing of a the Yasoinaba Police Precinct earlier today.   We know that currently there are two confirmed dead, and at least a dozen critically injured.  The number would have been much higher, though, if not for the brave actions of a few courageous police officers who rushed back up the collapsing building to rescue survivors…”_

 

Yu suspected who had led that charge back into the dangerous inferno.  “Is that how you lost your shirt?”

 

The older man looked away from his nephew, his ears pink with embarrassment.  “Ah, it was already a mess by that point.  Part of the ceiling tried to flatten me into a pancake.  Thankfully, my skull’s a bit too thick to have that happen.”  He paused, trying to sort through the pieces of memory and emotion.  “Did you ever get used it?”

 

Confusion must have been evident on his face, because his uncle sighed, before clarifying.  “Being a hero, I mean.  Knowing you were the only ones who could save all those people who were being targeted.  Even when there were people like me, breathing down your neck….”

 

A soft smile creeped on Yu’s face, even as he knew his uncle must be wracked with guilt, still, over his ignorance and suspicion last year.  “I wasn’t alone, really.  I had friends I knew I could count on, and talk to when things got rough.”

 

Dojima snorted at that, the worst of the self loathing forgotten at how cheesy his nephew occasionally sounded.  “Sometimes I suspect of the two of us, you’re the adult in this situation.  What am going to do when you leave for college?”

 

Unlike his younger cousin, Yu was not so easily distracted from the topic at hand.  If he let his uncle get off topic, he might never find out what happened.  “Are you worried that someone saw you do something...extraordinary during the aftermath?  Or did something else happen?”

 

The older man didn’t answer at first, instead staring at his hands and the spot of soot he’d missed when washing up.  Only when he realized that his nephew wouldn’t let the matter drop did he relent.  “I don’t...I don’t think anyone did.  Guess I’ll know soon enough.  One of the junior detectives, Watanabe, the kid with the glasses at Adachi’s old desk? I was discussing the updates on the latest canvas for Seitou with him, when...everything fell apart.  Kid’s probably going walk with a limp for the rest of his life.  I took the brunt of it, but then the ceiling gave in….” His eyes squeezed shut against the memory of the man’s leg pulped into a bloody mess.  

 

“So you weren’t kidding about almost becoming a pancake….”

 

“Yeah, the kid was out cold from the blast at that point, otherwise I might be worried about being caught taking the brunt of a steel girder.  The rest I think I can blame on adrenaline.  I mostly just dug people out of the wreckage." He paused again, wincing.  "I only really remember bits and pieces, really.  Maybe I got a few screws knocked loose.”

 

The TV kept droning on.   _“While the police have yet to officially name what was responsible for the explosion, several sources have suggested that the probable point of origin was a bathroom on the fourth floor.a video taking responsibility for the attacks was posted to the popular anonymous chat site 2chan shortly before the incident.  The video features a man who identify himself as Seitou Noburo, the convict who remains still at large after his daring escape during a prison riot…”_

 

The snarl that answered that bit of news sent shivers up Yu’s spine.   “Goddamned son of a bitch needs to rot in hell…”  The coffee began to bubble and hiss in the grip of Dojima's hand. Heat poured off his uncle, and despite the snow outside, the room was starting to feel like the middle of summer.  

 

Yu cleared his throat, trying to break the detective’s attention away from the newscast.  “Uncle….”

 

The older man stood up from the couch, his gaze still locked on the mugshot on the news.  

 

“I don’t think now is a good time to replace the television….”

 

The absurdity of the statement snapped the murderous fog blanketing Dojima’s mind.  He stared in disbelief at his nephew.  “What?”

 

The silver haired boy winced at how... animalistic the man sounded in that moment.  “I said we don’t need to replace the TV just yet, so maybe you shouldn’t destroy it…?”

 

“Ah...ha.  Oh jeez.” In an instant, the temperature of the room dropped, and the coffee stopped its roiling boil.  Dojima sank back on the couch, the exhaustive events quickly catching up to him, pinning him with the weight of their toll.  “I’m a mess, aren’t I.”

 

“No, you’re just tired and angry, and anyone would be after a day like today.”

 

“Still… I could end up killing somebody, if I’m not careful.  I’m sorry, you don’t need to deal with this.”

 

“But you haven’t.”

 

Looking up at his nephew, the detective scowled in confusion.  “What?”

 

“You keep talking about how you could hurt someone, or kill someone, with this...ability of yours.  But you haven’t.  No matter how justified you’d be, with that criminal that tried to run you over, or facing Adachi after trying to shoot us, you didn’t kill them.  Adachi used his ability to kill two people when he could, for the hell of it.  You’re not Adachi, Uncle.”

 

Dojima sighed, the exhaustion sapping his energy to argue.  “Thanks, though I’m not as good as keeping myself in check as you may think-”

 

“If you’re talking about what you did to that car at the station, I already know about that.  If Naoto was correct on how awful that guy was, the fact that you only punched a hole through the engine block is still impressive.”

 

It was hard to take the glare Dojima shot at him seriously when the older man couldn’t be bothered to keep the smirk off his face.  “I swear, you kids are going to be the end of me.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so mean to the poor detective. Seitou's stepping up his game against the one force he sees as opposing him. Too bad for him that Dojima's martyr complex keeps the victim count to a minimum, but there are limits on what you can do with nigh invulnerability and enhanced strength.
> 
> The Kirijo group would probably love to get their hands on a specimen so altered by their time in a Shadow world. And although their actions would be with noble intentions, neither Yu nor Dojima himself would like seeing them using him like a lab rat. Nevermind Yu having to explain to Dojima why he has the secret police on speed dial.


	12. Hew

Smoke and dust clouded his vision, making him cough as he tried to get his bearings.  The steel ceiling support groaned ominously as he shifted his grip, holding it up with one hand as he pulled the unconscious kid up to sling over his shoulder.  Glowing sparks flew amongst the debris like fireflies, belying the dangers of exposed wiring and crumbling infrastructure around him.  Who else had been on this floor just now?  Orienting was hard when so little had survived intact.  The girder made more and more noises of protest; he jumped clear before the other end joined the wreckage on this floor.

 

The kid groaned at the sudden jerking, and silver hair bobbed as he tried to fight the tight grip of the older man trying to balance him in a one handed fireman’s carry.

 

Wait… silver hair?  This wasn’t Wantanabe bleeding out on him....

 

Ryotaro Dojima felt the air driven from his lungs as he looked into his nephew’s pale face grow grey as the floor gave up its fight with gravity-

 

-to his credit, he didn’t scream or bolt upright when his snapped open, finding himself not in bombed out police headquarters, but in his own home, sunlight streaming through the living room sliding glass doors.  A movement caught his eye, and pink filled his vision as he felt something being placed on his head.  “Nanako, wha-”

 

Spots swam in front of him as he tried to blink away the bright light of a camera’s flash.  Quite sure that his nightmare was just that, Dojima grunted as he attempted to sit up.  Had he fallen asleep on the couch?  The dry, nasty feeling of his mouth suggested as much.  The dozen playing cards that tumbled into his lap suggested what the kids had been doing to keep entertained.

 

“Ah, Daddy, I almost finished!” Tiny hands scrambled to pick up the scattered remains of the deck.  A suppressed snicker drew the detective's attention up to Yu, phone still held in photography mode.

 

“Delete that, now.” It wasn’t his best growl, but it still would put the fear in most men.

 

Yu wasn’t most men.  “One second, it’s almost finished sending to mother…”  

 

The older man’s eyes narrowed.  “You wouldn’t dare….”

 

The teen smiled, then shrugged.  “She and dad had seen the news.  They were worried.”  His uncle hid his surprise well.  The Narukamis were not usually ones to reach out.

 

“What time is it?  I need to find out what’s happening after….” The older man’s voice trailed off, unwilling to remind them of the terrible events of the day before.

 

“Just before 10, uncle.  Your sergeant called an hour ago, though.  All officers involved in the incident are on mandatory leave for the next 48 hours.”  The teen winced at the absolute murderous look on the detective’s face.  He could still hear the relief of his uncle’s supervisor when he learned that he didn’t have to deliver that particular order directly.  “All schools are closed today as well.  They want to do a full sweep before letting classes resume.”

 

His uncle sighed and nodded at that; no doubt he’d have wanted them to do that anyways.  The protective way the man was stroking his daughter’s hair, still loose from the night before, told Yu the detective was worried Seitou was going to start targeting *them* as well, and he couldn’t protect them twenty-four seven.  Knowing Dojima, though, he might actually try if someone didn’t talk sense into him.

 

The ding of the toaster brought them all back to the relative here and now.  “Ah, I need to finish the eggs!”  Nanako wriggled out of her wedged spot between her father and the sofa cushions.  Her ‘Big Bro’ moved to help with the last of the preparations, and for a moment, Dojima felt entirely useless.  The pity party didn’t last, however, as a whiff of his own unwashed self made him realize he was in desperate need of a shower.  “God damnit, I’m a mess.  Nanako, sweetie, I’m going to clean up; I promise to be right back.”

 

Cool water seemed to help dispel the last of the cobwebs.  So Seitou had managed to put a bomb on the top floor’s bathroom, somehow knowing there would no one there to stop him or question him.  How had he gotten past the security and dozen officers in the station?  It wasn’t like no one knew what he looked like….hell, there were times lately when he was sure he knew Seitou’s mug better than the one staring back at him in the mirror.

 

A shiver ran up Ryotaro’s spine, and had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.  The top floor men’s restroom had a wall of mirrors by the sinks.  They were so ostentatious (and frankly, unflattering) that most people avoided using it.  But if whereever Seitou was hiding was behind mirrors, like the world behind the tv...then it’d be a perfect place to slip in and out of without ever being seen.

 

And he knew exactly how this supernatural terrorist had found out about it.  

 

_Tohru Adachi._

 

Damnit, and there was no way he’d be able to question his former partner about it now.  No doubt they had someone at the prison monitoring his visitations, and honestly, it would just look suspicious in general for him to speak to a convicted murderer right after the station blew up.  Seitou may have claimed responsibility, but no detective worth his badge would simply take confession at its word, and there were plenty of other people who would enjoy watching a police station become rubble.  Adachi was as good a suspect as anyone.

 

The bath was starting to become thick with steam, the anger and frustration feeding the fire within him to inferno levels.   _Breathe_.  He needed to breathe, and remember he couldn’t fix everything, and not give into every moment of rage like some animal.  The water still sizzled as it hit his skin, but he could feel the heat shrink back to more manageable temperatures.

 

“Daddy, breakfast is ready!”

 

With a sigh, he flipped the water off, and toweled up.  He needed to remember there were important things beyond just solving cases and chasing perps.  Maybe if he spent more time focusing on these chances to breathe, he wouldn’t spend so much time fighting himself.

 

Yeah, right.

 

Breakfast was a quiet event, and it was hard to keep his mind off possible clues and replays of the events of yesterday.  More than once, Nanako would have to repeat her requests to have him pass the salt.  The apologies he offered felt weak and stupid, he knew, but nothing he did could keep Dojima from drifting in a fog.  

 

Small hands patted his hair, startling the detective, only to have his daughter drag him half out of his chair in a tight hug.  Her voice was muffled as her head was buried in the crook of his neck against his button down shirt.

 

“Daddy, you’ll stay safe, won’t you?”

 

“Hmm?” Her question caught him off guard.

 

“I know you worry about me an’ big bro, but who is out there protecting you, daddy?  I...I love you, daddy, and I know big bro told me you’re ok, but sometimes he and you don’t tell me things, just ‘cause I’m little, and it’s not fair, daddy.  I worry, too!”

 

Calloused hands wrapped around her, returning the affection, and pulling her into his lap, her head tucked under his chin.  “Nanako, I’m so sorry.  You shouldn’t have to put up with such nonsense, but you do, so well.  I’m sorry you have to worry so much.  Everything right now...yes, its scary, and it means I have to work a lot, but I promise you that I’m doing it to keep us all safe.  I almost lost you once, and I never want to have that happen again… I admit, your father’s got some pretty selfish reasons to want to make sure you never get hurt.”

 

Her big brown eyes were halfway closed, lulled into sleepiness by the warmth of her father and the steady, strong sounds of his heartbeat in her ear.  “What do you mean, daddy?”

 

“Well, when you’re hurt, your daddy hurts too.  He worries that he didn’t do a good job keeping you safe, and your all he has.”  Fingers combed through tiny pigtails.  “Sometimes I wonder if you’re more of an adult than I am, Nanako.  You’re so much like your mother….”  

Nanako didn’t say anything at first, and Dojima wondered if she’d drifted off back to sleep.  “Dad… before, when you spent all your time at work, and didn’t play with me… was it because I reminded you too much of Mom?”

 

Deep breaths and clenched eyes were all he could do to keep his heart from shattering at the truth in his child’s words.  “...A bit.  I was also scared, to be honest.  Your mom did so much for both of us, and when she was gone… I was scared I’d do everything wrong and you’d leave me too.”  Hot tears pricked his eyelids, so sad that a child so young had to realize such an awful truth.

 

“But we’re going to get through this, Nanako, I promise, and I will stop at nothing to make sure you, your cousin, and I can have a safe place to live.”  He looked down at her innocent face and forced himself to smile.  “C’mon.  We better help Yu with the dishes.”

 

The rest of the morning was spent attempting to cheer themselves up in a variety of fashions; they made a trio of snowmen (snowpersons, Nanako had corrected him) out front, Yu had tried to teach them both how to make paper cranes, and they’d taken some time to help Nanako on her homework.

 

By the afternoon, however, Dojima felt himself getting more and more restless.  Twice during lunch he’d snapped his chopsticks in half just reaching for seconds.  His nephew shot him a sympathetic look while Nanako scolded him on being more careful.

 

“Uncle, why don’t you go out for a bit?  I can tell Nanako we needed things for dinner.  You’re starting to look like you’re about to gnaw off your own arm to do something.”

 

The detective grimaced, but couldn’t deny the truth in his nephew’s observations.  He was starting to bounce off the walls.  If anything, his energy levels had skyrocketed over the last few hours, and nothing he’d tried had done anything to abate that.  “Yeah.... yeah, probably a good idea.  I just wish I could get away with one day of not having to deal with this crazy crap.  One of these days I’m going to forget and some scientist group is going to lock me up in a lab….”

 

A strange cloud of emotion crossed Yu’s face.  “Maybe… maybe it would help if we sought someone out, instead?  Maybe someone has more experience with this than we do.”

 

The older detective snorted in disbelief.  “Yeah, right.  What can we do, just look folks like that up in a phonebook?  Yu, I know you mean well, but the second the wrong people find out, its only a matter of time before we’re all in danger.  Leave it… we’ll…. We’ll figure something out.”  His voice betrayed how much faith he had in that plan, either.

 

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.  Call me if anything comes up.”

 

After the door closed behind his uncle, Yu’s finger hovered over an entry in his contact list.   _Kirijo, Mitsuru._  

 

His courage wasn’t high enough to press ‘call’.  Not yet.

 

Just west of the house was an old growth forest that made up part of a national park.  Usually, the only time people were in there was during the summer, or during the school’s annual attempt at instilling fear of community service in its students.  The dead of winter, however, saw only the few brave (and foolish) nature lovers, and the occasional criminal who thought they could rough it until the heat was off.  

 

So it was little surprise that his car was the only one in the dirt parking area.  Boot sinking into the drifts, Dojima shucked his jacket off, the fire in his core pulsating with the energy he’d built up.  When he was far away enough from any path or road, he paused to consider his options.

 

After a moment, an old pine tree that had succumbed to one too many winters caught his eye.  At least 50 meters in height, its trunk was nearly as wide as he was tall at its base, it’d be a hazard in the summer when the dry weather would turn it into a fire hazard.

 

His fingers sank into the rough bark, driving like nails into the old, rotting wood. The pent up energy singing inside him was making his muscles twitch, so desperate to just let go.  He paused; trying to take deep calming breaths, and not feel like a complete idiot.

 

It was like when he tried to lift the car before; part of him was felt foolish for even trying this- who was he, Featherman? Another part of him was just as frightened that he *could* do this… pulling out a 50 meter tree like it was a weed in the garden.  The idea of being more than just a regular human made him feel like a monster, and that line of thought was terrifying.  If he wasn’t human...what the hell was he?

 

Fuck it, might as well see how much he’d changed.  If Seitou was going to play dirty, the detective knew he’d need every weapon at his disposal to take him down.  The idea that worthless, despicable asshole was using *his* city to play a murderous game of cat and mouse snapped the last threads of restraint holding the detective back, and with an inhuman grunt, he pulled.

 

The ancient tree exploded out of the ground in a shower of snow, mud and roots; as he held it fast against himself, the trunk groaned ominously at the strain, and he could hear the sound of fracturing wood deep within.  Changing his grip, he raised the tree high above his head and tilting it until it was parallel to the ground; the trunk bending under gravity and the top branches brushing the ground.  Shifting slowly, he moved himself a bit further up the trunk, before slamming it down sharply on his knee, splintering the massive body in two in a blur of movement.  He raised the remaining part of tree back up and split it again.  Again.

 

Dusting off his hands, Dojima surveyed his work.  The tree had been reduced to a couple of massive logs and a few dozen sheared off branches.  It’d felt like light yardwork; if he’d kept his eyes closed, the five foot diameter trunk would have felt like a twig as he snapped it into pieces.  Sure, the poor thing was dead before he’d reduced it to kindling, but it was far from rotted through.  Not for the first time did he wish there was a more accurate means of finding his limits, but he was no fool.  Someone was already taking too close of an interest in him, and there had been rumors of a secret military branch sniffing around the department after last year - it wasn’t often limos drove down Inaba’s street.  Sure, his nephew had hand waved at his concerns they were interested in his activities, but he’d gotten this far being a paranoid bastard.  Who knows what they’d do to them, if they knew what he was capable of?  Probably cart him off to some laboratory, as far away from the field and Inaba as possible.

 

His anger was fueling his energy levels, building him up faster than he’d been able to burn off with his private little show of excess.  If he didn’t calm down, he’d be worse off than when he started.  Damn it, he didn’t need this!

 

With a frustrated roar, one of the larger pieces of the trunk was thrown into the air like a rocket. A full minute passed before its trajectory faded, and the log began to tumble back to the ground, quickly reaching terminal velocity.  Just before the wood met earth, a single fist punched right through the center, dissolving the mighty trunk into a cloud of splinters.  Pointless, but it did make Dojima feel better.

 

He flexed his fist, trying to judge how he felt after each ...extraordinary action.  Seemed speed burned energy just as well as acts of brute strength.  He’d been loathe to get too far away from the car, but he needed to do _something_ to cool off.   A jog quickly became a sprint, the individual sounds of old trainers hitting the dirt eventually blending into one constant note in his head. Individual trees became a blur of green and brown.  Track had been one of his best sports in high school; pity foot chases weren’t as common in police work as television suggested.

 

The blare of traffic brought him skidding to a halt.  He tried to remember where the roads were in relation to forest, but his memory failed him.  Maybe he’d becoming disoriented and ended up back at the side street he’d taken into the park.  Ignoring the slap of the underbrush against him, Dojima looked for a traffic sign to orient himself, while avoiding being seen by the cars rushing by.  It certainly didn’t look like the side road.  

 

His mouth felt horribly dry as he read the overhead highway marker.  According to the characters, Inaba was 40 km away.  There had to be a mistake.  Hands trembling, he pulled out his cellphone from his pocket, taking a few missed keys to bring up the gps feature.

 

The groan stuck itself in his throat.  Well, he’d been half right; the sign was off.  He was 60 km from Inaba proper, not 40 as the sign said.  A few more minutes at that pace, and he’d have hit the ocean.  Sixty kilometers in what...five minutes?  He was faster than his own damned car!

 

It took a decent amount of concentration to keep from hyperventilating; he focused on the feeling of the cold air filling his burning lungs.  He’d assumed before that his speed had been momentary bursts of adrenaline; not something he could keep up long term; once again he’d underestimated the ways the energy coursing through him.  At least he wasn’t shooting lasers out of his eyes or...flying. Yet.

 

Pausing for a moment, he jumped experimentally in the air.   _Nothing, thank god_.

 

He picked out his footprints from before, and began to make his way back through the deep blankets of snow and trees; still sprinting, but slower and keeping an eye on his own tracks.  This time the trek was slightly less than an hour, but still put him will beyond ‘normal’ limits.  Thankfully, though, the energy had its outlet, and it died to a slightly pleasant hum behind his eyes.

 

Not quite exhausted, but decently worn out, he climbed back into his car and tapped out the take out number for Aiya’s.

 

\----

 

Somewhere in the Central Office, a phone rang with an Inaba area code in front of it.

 

“Sir, you asked to be called if there were any updates….”

 

“Mmhmm… has the target been provoked by the attack yesterday?  I pegged him at being more sensible than that….”

 

“No, sir… it’s, well… the Kirijo Group has become interested in the bombing here.  Apparently some of their tech was stolen and used in the bomb making….”

 

“Damnit, when will they learn to keep their nose out of other people’s business?  The private sector shouldn’t have such a monopoly on extraordinary events; Ikutsuki’s betrayal should have proven to that to their CEO.  Can’t be helped, though.  What’s done is done.  If they just focus on the bombing, and our target keeps his head down, we may come out of this in the black.”

 

“Understood, sir.”  There was a click, and the line resumed its dial tone.

 

Almost of full year’s worth of work, and suddenly all of it was teetering on the edge.  Dojima Ryotaro had been a perfect fit for their needs, even more so when something had awakened in the detective, giving him such abilities beyond anyone else they’d ‘recruited’ for this program.  Who knew that their previous target, in his spectacular fall from grace, had pointed them to an even better candidate in the form of his partner?

 

Still, the involvement of the Kirijo Group was… troubling.  Sure, they were useful, cleaning up supernatural messes that sprung up, but they’d been stingy with their research and had poached far too many good prospects from the field.  They would need to be watched with care; enough to head off any inquiries, but not enough to raise suspicion or draw their attention to their quarry.

 

“To the victor goes the spoils, Ms. Kirijo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long absence. Real life in the form of my master's practicum, emergency surgery and multiple hosptial visits wiped me out, but I'm back! Really! Sure, this was mostly filler and exposition, but, but, Dojima vs tree!
> 
> ...Hello?
> 
> Aw, sugar, everybody left already, didn't they.


	13. Part 3: Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dojima stops giving a fuck what the top brass wants him to do.

Generally, his interaction with the general population of the prison was extremely limited, particularly after his ‘escape’.  Not that Tohru minded, really; as a former cop, he was a prime target for every petty thug and violent criminal with a chip on their shoulder; between the prisoners and the guards, he’d gotten his fill of black eyes, bloody noses and bruised midsections.  Those idiots were only useful for receiving a mind fucking, and he got plenty of that with the guards.  He was just fine with solitary; the less he had to deal with people, the better.

 

Ironic, then, one of the few times he was out in the common rec room, listlessly half-listening to the tv behind him (funny how desperate they had been to tighten security after the riot, and he could still just waltz out from under their noses if he pleased), that he heard something actually _interesting_.

 

‘Details are still few and far between on the devastating explosion that happened earlier today at the Yasoinaba Police Precinct; a video has appeared on the popular website 2chan purportedly of Seitou Noburo taking responsibility for the attack, and threatening more if certain unspecified demands aren’t met.  Our viewers might remember that Seitou is one of two convicts who escaped in the riot at the…’

 

The book clattered out of his fingers as his legs shuffled him closer to the tv screen.  Over and over, that miserable hell hole of a workplace burned into clouds of thick, black smoke.  He couldn’t tear his eyes from screen if he tried.  For a brief moment, he was downright giddy at the sight.   _That’s right, you stupid idiots, burn; burn like the worthless pile of trash you are…_

 

...Then he realized they were mentioned casualties.  That took a tiny bit of the shine off the glee.  He wondered if they were anyone he knew; anyone he’d miss.  Remembering his coworkers, he doubted that.

 

 _Wonder if Dojima-san was working that day…_ ah, who was he kidding, Dojima couldn’t clock out if his life depended-

 

His stomach sank like a stone at the thought, though he tried to deny his concern.  No, no way the senior detective got caught up in that mess.  No way he’d be that ~~un~~ lucky….

 

No way a little explosion could kill an asshole that big, he ~~hoped~~ figured.  Their last visitation played through his head, searching for an excuse to keep from feeling this growing wave of concern.   _That’s right, Dojima’s some kind super freak these days, after all.  He’s gotta be fine…_.

 

Still, Tohru would never admit the sigh of relief came from him when the on-scene camera sweeped over the crowd of survivors, and briefly showed a familiar figure, covered in soot and looking worse for wear, but very much alive.  

 

One of the braver (and dumber) convicts to Tohru’s left sneered at him.  “Bet yer real sad to see that place burn, ain’t ya, copper?”

 

It was a little too easy to slip the mask of the jester back on.  “Eeeeh, I couldn’t give two shits if the place goes up in flames.” His grin must have been unnerving to the fellow prisoner, who nervously shuffled to the other end of the couch.  “Just a real pain, though.  They might all be idiots, but this will just make ‘em mad.  If Seitou really did do this, he’s gonna have a real hornet’s nest after him, now.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “Not my problem, though.”

 

It was never Tohru’s problem, after all.

\-----

 

To Ryotaro, he felt like there was a hive of angry wasps in his chest, the way the details of this case made his body buzz.  No way was he letting someone get away with this sort of terrorism in _his_ city.  They needed to find a way into whatever lay behind the mirrors, to catch Seitou before he had a chance to kill again.

 

He nodded to the security guard on duty at the entrance of the trailers, which now made up the temporary precinct. Top brass had tried to get the detective to stay home, take some time off, saying it was way too soon for him to be back at work, but Dojima was done jumping through hoops.

 

He’d blamed the dent in the office wall on adrenaline.  Nobody was stupid enough to be willing to argue.

 

The industrial trailers they were now using were cramped, but they were better than nothing.  He slipped into one of the folding chairs at the back of the conference room, listening to the sergeant's review what they had gathered since the few days after the bombing.  The public response to the news had generated a massive stack of leads; most were duds, but they couldn’t afford to ignore a single one.  That would mean more canvassing, for all the good it would do.

 

Was this how it was like for his nephew and his friends, a year and half ago?  Knowing they were the only hope at solving the murders, but their hands were tied until the killer made another move outside of the TV World?

 

Shirogane caught his eye a few chairs away.  She’d been officially brought back onboard to offer an outside view of the case.  This time, though, Dojima knew better than to second guess her hypothesizes; he'd been a pig-headed fool before.  Frankly, her opinion meant more than anyone else at this point; not like anyone else believed there was something supernatural involved.

 

“-and just a heads up: we’ll be having a few guests coming onto the investigation at the invitation of the central office.  The Kirijo Group had some prototype hardware stolen shortly before the bombing took place, and there’s credible evidence some of it was used in the device's construction.” A chorus of groans circled the room as the sergeant raised his hands in sympathy.  “They promise not to step on our toes, people, and let’s be honest here, we could use all the help we can get.  They come with high recommendations from the top brass, so try and play nice, ok?”

 

Dojima noted that Shirogane seemed to perk up at the name mentioned…’Kirijo’, was it?  Well, it wasn’t as if nobody had heard of them before; half the police equipment these days seemed to bear their signature logo.  Didn’t realize they did private security as well.  How did she know them?  And if the young detective knew of them… did his nephew?  Not likely, but judging from the relief on Shirogane’s face, they might actually be an asset in this whole mess.  Did they know about the world of shadows and personas?

 

Still… a ball of worry rolled in his gut.  The Kirijo group were well known for their research and technology; if they did know about the world behind the tvs, would they be interested in turning a freak of a detective into their lab rat?  His paranoia began running scenarios in his head; one false step and he'd be outed as the freak he'd become....

 

He pushed the rising worry down as he shuffled over to Shirogane during the break.  “You seemed interested when they mentioned we were getting outside help.  Does the Kirijo Group generally work often with detectives?  Or are you familiar with them in another way?”

 

The teenager’s shifting glance to either side of them told him enough.   _If it was a normal case, she could mention it here, but if it has to do with the TV world…._ _Shit,_ he hated being right, sometimes.  “If you’d rather discuss it later, that’s fine.  No need to rehash old cases right now.  But tell me, would _Yu_ happen to be familiar with them as well?”

 

“Ah...well, we all worked closely with representatives of their Operatives unit during last Golden Week, over some missing research that had been waylaid here in Inaba, so I’d say so.”  Naoto winced slightly at the admission.  They hadn’t told Dojima *quite* the whole story with that incident, yet.  Narukami had been concerned for his uncle’s jitters about being discovered and possibly hauled away for ‘testing’.  A well founded fear, but she wasn’t sure it was valid with the Shadow Operatives.  Still, if anything, this business had taught her it better to be safe than sorry with allies.

 

“Hrm, seems they’re misplacing a lot of research here in Inaba.  Any idea why?”  His tone was neutral, but Naoto could feel the growl layered under his voice.

 

“To be honest, sir, I have no idea.”  It *was* peculiar how these things kept happening here.  Perhaps Inazami’s lingering influence?  That might be something to check, the next time Marie appeared.

 

Whatever the case, this news had obviously put Dojima-san in a bad mood.  She made a mental note to shoot senpai a text to warn him in advance that his uncle would probably interrogate him later.

 

The older detective seemed to have relaxed by the time it was his turn to speak.  After making a brief mention that the other detective who’d been assigned the canvas had mysteriously taken a leave of absence after his car’s ‘accident’ (there were a few muffled whoops and sighs of relief over that), Dojima quickly listed out what he’d found.  Much of Seitou’s gang was still in prison, but there had been a significant increase in petty criminal activity linked back to suspected former members not currently incarcerated.  Cash robberies for the most part, with a few rumors of arms smuggling, though there was an interesting uptick in high end electronics theft as well.  Nothing of the stolen inventory, however, could be concretely linked to a single field or possible device.

 

One informant, who’d been key to evidence in the case against the gang eight years ago, was now missing; though the detective didn’t say it outright, every officer in the meeting knew what that meant.  Because of it, most of those who’d spoken out against Seitou were reluctant to collude with the police again.

 

As the meeting finally adjourned, the unspoken summary hung in the air around every officer like Inazami’s fog over year ago.  Despite all this information, there was no real lead to taking the escaped convict down.  They were still at square one; still a step behind every move the criminals made.

 

At least five murders had Seitou Noburo's fingerprints all over them, and it was only a matter of time before he killed again.

 

\-----

 

The chill of January was even worse now that the sun had set.  Not that he cared, since the fire fueling him had him running hot even on the coldest days, but he knew he’d best dress like the winter effected him, lest someone’s suspicion catch on.  Stupid secret shit, making him even more paranoid than before....

 

He needed a beer, maybe four.  

 

Instead there was a flash, thud, and a scream.  

Something hit, hard, on his back, but bounced off and followed with a string of curses.  

Without thought, just action, he pivoted, wound up and slammed down.  Something crunched as it gave way under his fist.  

Another thud against his shoulder, something whizzing past his ear, a foot to his gut (not all that painful for him, probably sucked for the kickee, who recoiled in agony).

Everything was a blur.  He didn't take the time to even see who his attackers were.

First instinct said run.  Second, stronger instinct roared to fight back, to win.

A fist went for his face. Sidestep, catch and twist.  The snap of bone came quick.

Gun. Gun, right he had his gun with him.  Drew it fast and turned to the sound of something behind him.

 

A red laser focused a set of barrels on his head, even as his own pistol focused on theirs.  A woman, with blonde hair… and metal joints.  Not exactly human, he deduced.

 

“Calculating… at the moment, we both have less that 19.53 percent chance of success of firing without the other striking.  It would be in our best interest to call a ‘truce’.”  She(?) briefly swept her gaze at their feet, and nodded curtly.  “All current data suggests we have been fighting the same enemy.”

 

Sure enough, near her feet were two more of the attackers that had attempted to ambush him.  “Detective Dojima Ryotaro of the Inaba Police District.  I’m listening.”

 

Seemingly satsified with his introduction, she lowered her arm mounted machine gun.  “I am Aigis, with the Kirijo Shadow Operatives.  I postulate we have a significant amount of data to exchange, Dojima-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. That happened. Perfectly boring, I'm so sorry.
> 
> I really get squicked out trying to get into Adachi's head. He's just so... so.... creepy.
> 
> And augh....I need to work on writing fight scenes. And editing. And everything, really.


	14. Evasion

    “Aigis, tell me again why we couldn’t meet this detective in the car, or the hotel?” Kirijo Mitsuru, head of Kirijo Industries, drew her fur coat up to shield out the frozen air.  She was always appreciated the work that Aigis did, but at times like this she dearly hoped that Aigis remembered that not all of them were as resilient as the android was.

    The blonde anti-shadow unit paused from her scan of their surroundings to face her friend and superior.  “I apologize for the lack of proper accommodations, but it was imperative that we meet on neutral ground.  After being attacked in such a manner, it was natural for the man to be highly suspicious of any outreach of an unknown party.  Suggesting our hotel would not only given away our location, but seemed liked a potential ambush by an unknown party.” She paused, trying to best word what information she had gathered from the brief exchange with the local detective.

“In my analysis of the data collected at the scene of the excursion, I thought it would be best for us to work together if we were both were targeted.  Additionally, I observed some unusual circumstances that might suggest the man is not only aware of the Sea of Souls - or the ‘TV World’ as they call it here - but he might also be a persona user himself.” Her fingers gently unwrapped a packet from her coat pocket.  A large tactical knife lay within.  Mitsuru herself had noted that more and more terrorists they’d been up against had used similar weapons, but that was not the reason she suspected Aigis was showing it to her.  The knife blade was broken and bent, as if it had struck a hard surface.  “I also noted that Dojima-san had a large tear in the back of his shirt, but no underlying damage, and definitely no body armor.”

“Use of a persona as body armor?” Mitsuru hummed in thought. “Unusual.”  True, they had encountered a group of teenage persona users in this town last year, but there had been no indications of anything since then that might have risen to more users appearing in the area.  Nevermind that persona use outside the realms of the Sea of Souls was almost unheard of.  “What time is it?  I would think he’d have arrived already if he was coming.”  She tried to hold back another shiver from the wretched weather; her element might be ice, but she still disliked being uncomfortable.  “And where the hell is Akihiko?”

As if to answer her question, a faint yell echoed from the distance.  Both women turned towards the disturbance.  Aigis was the first to speak.  “Those vocal patterns match Akihiko-san, Mitsuru….”  Both women nodded.

Mysterious detectives would have to wait.  Friends came first.

 

The scene was a lot to take in.  Two figures struggled just off the pathway in a group of trees and a small gazebo, while a third stood just out of reach, trying to break up the confrontation. Impacted earth, clouds of dust and broken foliage spoke to a brutal fight.  

“Ah! Mitsuru, that man on top of Akihiko, that’s Detective Dojima.”  Aigis pointed to where Akihiko struggled against the ground and the detective’s knee pressed between his shoulder blades, futilely.  The man that Mitsuru could only assume to be Dojima was stone faced, holding the boxer’s right arm in almost an unnatural angle and pressed the left into the dirt.  Sanada would occasionally attempt to kick the older man off, but Dojima would silently twist the boxer’s arm until the younger man grunted with pain and gave in.  Meanwhile, a grey haired teen - Narukami, the persona user they’d encountered last year, she realized - was trying to talk both men down.

Finally, Dojima relented, and released the younger man. “What kind of idiot runs around at night, when there’s a damn madman on the loose, wearing nothing more than a bedsheet and combat pants?”

“As I tried to explain, I was trying to do surveillance for ...uh. H-hi, Mitsuru…” Akihiko’s seemed to make knots as he suddenly realized the women’s presence. “I was just scouting the area, I swear!”

Mitsuru groaned, and waved him off. “Sanada, just… put a shirt on and make yourself presentable, please.” She paused, and turned to the the older man brushing dirt off his slacks.  “Dojima-san, I hope you can understand my colleague’s actions are only out of concern.  Please don’t hold his rash decisions against us.”

Aigis’s quiet voice was at her ear.  “I will have to upgrade my assessment of Dojima-san. To not only overtake Sanada-san, but to keep him subdued… Strength alone, he might be the most powerful persona user we’ve encountered.”

Aigis’s words struck Mitsuru. The detective had strong armed Akihiko without even manifesting his Persona, as far as she’d been able to detect.  Who was this man? Had he’d been affected somehow by the midnight hour like Minazuki?

The detective sent a side eye glare at the still sheepish boxer, but nodded at Mitsuru’s words.  “Sometimes, paranoia can be a good thing, with all the unknown going on.” The man shook his head as he brushed his hand back through his short brown hair.  Somehow, the familiar fidgeting behavior put Mitsuru more at ease as she quickly checked Akihiko for injuries beyond his pride.  

“My nephew here-” Narukami gulped visibly as the collective gaze moved towards him, “Filled me in on your work here last year.  I... knew something was going on, but I admit I was ...left in the dark until recently.”  He sighed, and patted the teenager on the shoulder.  “Though, to be fair, I wasn’t willing to listen until I had to.  It was hard enough to believe I’d missed the signs myself.”  An echo of betrayal in the gruff voice resonated with the young Kirijo.  Aigis had mentioned this detective had been senior partner of Adachi Tohru, the man ultimately responsible for the murders within Inaba. Ikutsuki, Adachi… Dojima, too, knew what it was like to trust someone who would turn around and stab you in the back.

“Very few know about the world within the shadows… your disbelief is more than understandable.  If I hadn’t been exposed to such dark secrets for most of my life, I suspect my reaction would be similar.”  She matched his gaze.  “Am I correct in assuming you, too, can summon what we call a persona?”

The detective’s eyes didn’t leave hers as he slowly nodded his head.  “During the prison break there was...an incident involving my former partner.  Hard to deny the supernatural when you wake up smack dab in it.”

“Did anything else unusual happen?  I mean, besides what happened in-”

“There’s someone coming, Mitsuru.  100 meters aways… and they’re moving suspiciously.”

All eyes grew wide at the news.  Strangely, Dojima didn’t exactly look surprised.  There was more to this story, she was sure of it.  No doubt Aigis’s postulations were correct.  “Dojima-san, Narukami, do you mind if we move this to somewhere more… private?”

\------

“You’re saying someone has been making inquiries about you since your persona awakened?  I can assure you, it hasn’t been anyone from our organization.  I wonder who’d have the authority….”

The plush seat of the limo felt uncomfortable against Dojima’s back.  He’d never been in such a high end car, and the whole setup put him on edge.  Still, Yu vouched for them, and had pleaded that his uncle give them a chance.  Frankly, they were getting to the point where they needed it.  He’d been attacked in public.  Someone was trying to track his every move, harassing him and the people around him.  Even his nephew, who seemed to have the answers to everything, was lost on where else they could turn.  “Whoever they are, they’re using investigators from Police HQ.  They’re using the Seitou situation to keep me off balance, and I still don’t know what they’re after.”

There was a brief knock before the side door opened, and the boxer from before slid into the empty seat, now decently dressed in a black shirt, slacks and white jacket.  “Mitsuru, here’s the file you asked for.  Your hunch was correct; our detective here,” He jerked his head towards his sparring partner, “isn’t on the detective manifest sent to us.  Somebody was trying to keep us from meeting him.”

Dojima raised an eyebrow.  Suddenly the bizarre call from the station sergeant asking him to coordinate with the neighboring district tomorrow made sense.  “My precinct also arranged to have me out of town tomorrow.  This stinks, but I suspect this isn’t about Seitou, is it?”

“No, Dojima-san, I don’t think so.  He’s connected to Sea of Souls somehow, but this sounds like someone wants to keep you off our radar.  The question is, why?  The Kirijo group is the best resource for information for Persona usage, but we’re obviously not the only ones who can, or know about it.  Why are they so interested in you in particular?”

The detective sighed, feeling Yu’s pleading eyes next to him, wanting him to trust these people enough to let them help.   _In for a yen…._ He nodded to his nephew.  “Alright.”

Yu pulled out a steel bar, almost a foot long and 2 inches thick, that he’d picked up from Daidara’s earlier, and passed it to his uncle.  They’d both agreed that if Dojima was going to tell anyone what was going on, a visual would be the most effective way of explaining it.

The three other occupants looked on, not quite sure what was happening as the detective gripped each end in his hands.  The confusion then turned into disbelief as the older man bent the bar into a knot, as easily as someone would tie a shoelace.  “When I was thrown into TV World, I didn’t just get a Persona.  Something… ah, changed me, and I’ve been running around like a supercharged furnace ever since.”  He looked at the knot in his hand, and let himself relax the tight control on the fire within him.  The knot of steel began to glow a dull orange with the heat he'd let flow out into his hand.  “I’ve been trying to keep my head down, but I think someone’s figured me out.  For what end, I don’t know.  Here.”  He tossed the molten ball at the boxer.

Akihiko had to bounce the ball between his gloved hands to keep from burning himself.  “Damn.  I feel a little better about you wiping the floor with me, at least.”

“Yes, well, not everything is a competition, Akihiko.” Mitsuru shot a glare at he blunt companion, but was glad for something to cover for her shock.  “Still… I can see why you wanted to be cautious about telling us.  Though, I wonder….”

“...That perhaps such suspicion is what whomever is stalking you wanted, Dojima-san.” Aigis finished for Mitsuru.  “If they want to keep you a secret from us, what better way than to make you paranoid that we’d come after you for such abilities?  If not for our improbably encounter earlier, I calculate our chances of meeting at .04%.”

Dojima grunted in annoyed agreement.  “Keeping me off balance and isolated, thus vulnerable for whatever they wanted to do to me.  Which I still have no idea what it could be.”  Calloused fingertips tried to wipe the exhaustion and frustration from his face.

The young head of the Kirijo group crossed her arms.  “Dojima-san, I’m not sure you understand how unique you are, here.  Persona users are few, yes, and even fewer are those with the ability of your nephew and my companion Aigis to use multiple Personas at will.  However, as extraordinary as that is, their abilities are almost completely relegated to the Sea of Souls, the ‘TV World’ as it’s called here, and its inhabitants.  To be able to demonstrate such superhuman abilities in real world without extreme effort is not only unheard of, but could be incredibly dangerous in it fell into the wrong hands.  To them, you’d be the perfect super soldier in their private army, and if they could study you and duplicate it… who’d be able to stop them?”

The color drained from both the faces of uncle and nephew.  For him, these changes had been a curse; a burden he was constantly keeping in check.  However, for someone with less than honorable intentions or even experience, who knows what they’d do with such power?

Dojima’s thoughts crystallized around the contents of the safe back at the house.  There was still some of that strange liquor left.  He hadn’t even thought what someone might do if they found it.  Damn, he was in more danger than he’d ever guessed.   _So was Yu and Nanako, sharing the house with him_.

“Still, I think there might some things we can do to help you, Dojima-san, without raising too many suspicions, if you’re willing to work with us.”  Mitsuru immediately thumbed through her phone for a few trusted contacts in their Research and Development department.

The steely look in the detective’s eyes didn’t falter as he nodded to the three outsiders.  “I’m listening…”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, I'm not dead. Just had to make sure I spent some time revisiting P3 so I didn't completely butcher Misuru, Akihiko or Aigis.
> 
> Slowly the cards are being put on the table, one by one. Dojima's got more than himself to worry about, but that's how he's always worked, hasn't he. While Yu might be aware that his uncle's new supercop status isn't just an affect of his time in the TV World, no one else has an inkling, not even Dojima, who never remember his convenient exposition dreams.
> 
> (Ok, I admit, my torture of Akihiko came from a joke between my bestie and myself about how Dojima would react to Akihiko. 'Put a damn shirt on, you're not impressing anybody.' Also, we felt the need to annoy him after his in-game AI was seriously drunk whenever I had him on my team. Bad Aki.)
> 
> Hopefully people are still interested in this? Sorry I'm so awful about keeping this updated regularly. Now I need to figure out what, if anything, Kirijo could do for him besides run lots of silly tests on him. R&D would be annoyed when he keeps breaking their 'indestructible' equipment.


	15. Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step closer to the end.

Damnit, he was tired.  All he really wanted to do was to avoid the questioning eyes of the three researchers in front of him and crash on the cheap hotel room a block away.  But his pillow would have to wait, as this might be the only time he’d be able to get some actual answers.

Right now, the Shadow Operatives group was still in Inaba, coordinating information with every detective assigned to the Seitou case, looking for some possible lead on how to enter the criminal’s supernatural hideout or at least a way to lure him out into the open. 

Well, almost every detective. 

Someone had decided that Ryotaro Dojima didn’t need to be in Inaba today, instead sending him three towns over on the flimsy excuse of coordinating canvassing efforts.  The blatant attempt to hide the detective almost worked, too, if not for a gang of Seitou’s lackeys fortuitously putting the Persona wielding detective in the same fight as the anti-shadow unit Aigis.

The Shadow Operatives had offered their help, and his nephew had managed to twist his arm into accepting it.  Both parties had agreed it was better not to tip their cooperation to whomever had an interest in the detective just yet.

Which is now why he was sitting uneasily in the garage of a nondescript office building, hoping that he hadn’t walked out of the frying pan only to land into the fire, instead.

One of the labcoats, a kid who didn’t look much older than Yu, stopped taking notes and nodded at Dojima.  “Dojima-san, my name is Kujo Aramaki, I’m one of the lead engineers at the Kirijo Shadow research laboratories.  My boss gave me the basic rundown of what you’ve been experiencing since contact with the so called ‘Sea of Souls’.  Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but we may be able to jury rig a temporary surge protector of sorts, if my theories prove correct.  However, if you wouldn’t mind a small demonstration in person, it would go a long way for us to see what we’re dealing with.”

This Aramaki character led the wary older man to a device that looked a bit like a backhoe, with a reinforced steel plate instead of shovel adjusted to about shoulder height.  “Now, sir, I just want you to hit this as hard as you can.  Don’t hold back; this bad boy can take 3 tonnes psi.  If you’d like, we’ve got padded gloves you can wear-”

Dojima smirked as he punched his right fist into left hand, relaxing his shoulders.  “Nah.  I got this.”  

 

CRUNCH.

The engineer from the Kirijo winced as he spoke into the video phone.  “That’s the third force plate he’s destroyed so far.”

Mitsuru shook her head in unconcerned interest.  She had tried to warn them not to underestimate the man they were dealing with.  “So I take it you still have no leads on how we can help him?”  The young leader of the Shadow Operatives worried she’d overstated their abilities when she’d convinced Ryotaro Dojima to let them examine him at one of their satellite offices.

Aramaki blinked at his boss, as if the mere suggestion was a personal insult.  “Oh, no!  The faraday cage wearable device is proving remarkably effective.  The trick was to divert and disperse the excess energy output safely to keep it from building past levels that the subject has trouble controlling.  The detective is just putting it through the paces so we can see what the upper limits of his abilities are while testing the failure rate.”  

The young research engineer angled the webcam over to allow the head of the Kirijo group a view of the laboratory floor.  Sure enough, Dojima, clad in what appeared to be a black t shirt laced with wires and LEDs, was looking at a severely twisted hydraulic arm of the force meter they’d been using to test the effectiveness of the equipment on his performance. 

Armakai adjusted his glasses as he always did when bragging about his latest development.  “Really, the biggest issue was hitting the right materials to withstand the heat output this man can generate.  The first prototype sadly melted at an output of 4 metric tonnes of force, since we saw a spike in temperature of 100 degrees celsius.  This version has currently held up at 8 metric tonnes, and a spike of 150 degrees, which seems to be the current upper limit he can output.  The biggest obstacle has been regulating his waste energy output to less than 100 celsius.  It seems the faster he moves or higher force he outputs, the more waste energy is expended as heat.  Stress can also create a fluctuation in waste energy, but those outputs are usually easily diverted.”

“That...I...my goodness. That is incredible.  I knew he was remarkable, but this beyond what I could have predicted.  Any idea what the source might be?”

That seemed to deflate Aramaki a bit.  “Well, yes, and no.” The look his employer gave him told the engineer that was not an acceptable answer.  “I mean it’s fairly easy to see how he’s able to do it; his body is able to generate and channel the energy seen with Persona use at incredible levels that by all means would kill anyone else.  You know that during that in previous documentation that in the manifestation of the Persona generates energy along the spinal cortex, correct? Well, he’s generating this energy constantly, and throughout his entire nervous system; the closest comparison I can make is to the theories on chi.  However, …we can’t figure out what is generating it, or how he’s adapted to use it over such extended periods. Most people find themselves suffer a sort of ‘burn out’ from maintaining a Persona for more than a few hours, but he’s replicating the process constantly with no visible ill effects.  If I was able to spend more time studying him at our main research facility, I might-”

Mitsuru held up her hand.  “Don’t even go down that road.  Lest you forget, Aramaki, this ‘test subject’ of yours is a human being, with a life and family.  The Kirijo Group has made it our mission not to repeat the mistakes of the past.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  You’ve mentioned this is a particularly delicate situation.  Still, perhaps when whatever going on dies down, we can offer a more thorough analysis, if he’s up for it.  I mean, if we could figure out how he’s developed these abilities, who knows what other secrets we might learn?  This could possibly be a new form of Persona evolution.  We might be looking at the basis of heroes of myth!”

The young CEO didn’t look amused.  “Keep the mythology analysis for another time, please.  Have you made any additional progress on the FES portal activation device?  Dojima-san gave some promising information on what form the portals are taking during this incident.”

The young researcher nodded.  “He’s been quite forthcoming with his observations from several crime scenes they’ve investigated.  Even without the full knowledge of Shadow and Tartarus science, he’s got a good eye for hypothesis.  If you don’t mind me saying, Ma’am, have you considered offering him a job?”

 

Shaking his hand lightly, Dojima couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the damage he’d been able to inflict on the supposedly ‘indestructible’ plate he’d been punching for the last hour.  He’d stop really listening to the labcoats as they rattled off random numbers.  They just told him to hit it, he did, and then waited while they tried to adjust it again.  Most of what they were chattering at him went a mile over his head, anyways.

He tried not to fiddle with the black cloth wrapped around him for the thousandth time.  He had no idea what it was, or what it was meant to be doing; just that it felt slightly awkward as he raised his arms over his head, like an over starched dress shirt.  It weighed a good deal more than anything he was used to wearing.  Vaguely, he could feel where certain parts stuck to his skin were doing  _ something _ to the energy inside him.

Whatever the piece of clothing was supposed to do, he could feel a change in the way the fire sat in his core.  No longer was he forced to spend most his concentration keeping the energy in his blood under control;  the energy and heat was still there, but steadier, more consistent and predictable.  It didn’t pound in his ears when he pushed himself out of ‘normal’ range, but almost a pleasant hum.  He felt a bit more grounded, and that was worth the additional unpleasant feelings of being a human guinea pig whenever he did something the labcoats didn’t expect.

One thing did stick in his mind, said by the little upstart kid when they had seen success with keeping him ‘grounded’.  “It’s holding.... Which is great, but your levels still fluctuate, like we’re not seeing your full potential just yet.  Almost as if there’s a piece missing from all this.  But, as you said, these abilities are still relatively new.  Perhaps over time you’ll grow into these developments, and they’ll stabilize without outside help.  That’s a big ‘if’, however….”

Ryujin had shifted in the back of his mind at the statement.   _ It is true, you are not yet complete as you once were.  Something still holds you back.  What do you fear more, what others want of you, or what  _ you  _ will become?   _

The detective groused at that.  His persona didn't pull any punches when it came to pointing out his innermost fears.  Guess that’s what you got, having your other self as a fighting partner.  He was scared of how much more he could change, but more and more the fear of what could happen to others if he didn't come to terms was growing. If he let his fear paralyze him and someone took advantage of that, who knows what might happen.  What if someone like Adachi ended up like this? What if it was someone like Seitou?

Thoughts of those murderers and the hell they’d put him through stoked the fire through his limbs, making the hum rise in pitch and volume.  Only the scream of metal buckling against his fist cut through it.  One. Two.  Three.  The entire force plate clanged against the cement floor, now nothing more than a pile of twisted scrap. Then, and only then, did a shaky sigh rattle in his chest and his arms drop.

His mind was still a murky swamp of emotion and half formed would be catastrophes as he walked the two blocks back to the cheap hotel the precinct had chucked him in for the night.  There had to be a clue, somewhere, on how to get where ever Seitou was hiding out.  That TV World, or whatever the Kirijo group called it - “Sea of Souls” - was supposed all be interconnected.  If Seitou was there, why couldn’t they find him?

The lock clicked open and he shucked off his jacket and shoes in the entrance.  Right now all he wanted to do was sleep, and hope that tomorrow someone had answers for him.

He...

He stared.  There, in the center of the bed, balanced perfectly, was a glass bottle.

The glass bottle.

The one that should be locked away, three towns over.  Not in a cheap hotel room, staring back at him like a piece of the forbidden fruit.

Even in the darkness, the liquid inside seemed to glow, sloshing gently from his heavy footfalls.  The whole room seemed to dance a bit in its light.

He hadn’t even realized he’d retreated from the sight until his heels painfully bounced off the wall behind him.  Why….

_ You said you were ready to take the last step.  Or was that all bluster? _

_ Let go of your fear and embrace it. _

 

He pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to mentally will the subconscious dragon silent.  Dojima Ryotaro had just said he’d wanted answers, and he didn’t an enigmatic persona to tell him that some of them were only going to come when he finished the bottle.

There was no fire.  No burn. Just a sweetness, like a ripe peach.

For the first time since this all started, he just felt…

Normal.

Was that it?  Was that the answer to all of this?  Finish the bottle, and in turn, everything reset?  

He wanted to laugh.  

All that worry, for it to end like this.

 

Any mirth shattered as cold metal pressed against the base of his skull.

A strange, sicky voice behind him answered his unasked question.

“Detective Dojima, Seitou Noburo would like to see you now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would Dojima be, if not a cop? Can he be anything other than a cop? It's not a question he'd want to answer anytime soon, if he could have a say.
> 
> The bottle, if you're wondering, isn't really a physical thing. It's made of the same stuff that makes up most of the TV World, so it's not really bound to the laws of physics. It knows where it's needed.
> 
> Hope this lives up to everyone's expectations. I live for everyone's comments, really.


	16. Infiltrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dojima finally learns where Seitou's been hiding.

Falling. 

Ryotaro Dojima knew he - no,  _ they _ \- were falling, even as the air took on the strange metallic scent that came with moving from the real world into the space behind the televisions.  The blindfold that had been thrown roughly over his head itched; if he wasn’t so disoriented with the strange viscous air, he’d make an effort to remove it.  Why hadn’t they bound his hands?  Did they not know he’d discovered the mirror-

Ah-!

Any other thought was shattered against the ground.  Pain shot through his arm and hip, his breath knocked out of his chest, and for a moment he was bewildered by the sensation… it had been months since he’d felt something so acutely.

A bitter laugh caught in his throat.   For almost four months he’d been begging for this, to just have everything turn back to normal, and now… well, he wouldn’t have long to enjoy this.  If you’d call this enjoyment at all.  No more fire, no more burn… just the electric sting of pain dancing along his nerves.

He scrabbled for the blindfold, ripping it and a few hair follicles off with it.  The sudden brightness made him wince, forcing him to blink, before the red swam into a cohesive landscape.  Massive rock walls loomed from each side, a small glint of sunlight glinting off… what was that?

    If the fall hadn’t taken away his breath, he’d had lost it at sight of the monstrous structure that filled the canyon in front of him.  Shapes and structures twisted in on themselves as the towers undulated towards the sun, all made of a glass-like material that seemed to warp the surrounding landscape into angry red hellscape…

    There was a rough hand at the collar of his shirt.  “C’mon, copper, the boss wants to meet ya.”  Ah, right.  He forgot about the gangbanger who’d chucked him in the first place.  More than a little curious, and not exactly interested in a bullet in his brain, Dojima shuffled forward toward the construction in front of them.

    Only as they drew closer did something catch his eye; something moving in the glass in front of him. Wait… not glass…

    Mirrors.  The whole structure was built out of mirrors.  Was that why Kujikawa and Teddy couldn’t find Seitou in this place? Try and scan it, and it reflected the rest of the environment around it?  No matter, now.  It was highly unlikely he’d ever get to tell them how Seitou escaped their notice, or even see them again, after this.  If only he’d had some sort of opening…

    Miserably, he watched his reflection trudge closer; it, too, unable to escape its fate.  The man in the mirror was dirty, with a bruise forming on the right side of his face; the dress shirt wrinkled and torn in places and more than a few drips of crimson splattered against it.  Behind him a short gangbanger, barely out of his teens, scanning the landscape around them; his gun dangling loosely in his left hand-

    Dojima didn’t give the thug time to react. One hand on the gun. Wrench it out of the way, skittering in the dirt.  Other hand - a fist - connecting solidly to the unkempt jaw.  Knocking him back and down.  Hit him again. Again. Don’t stop, until he stops struggling.

    The breath rattled in Ryotaro’s lungs, trying to escape a second time.  Relying on muscle memory, he turned the perp over, one quick check for a pulse - thready, but there, and using the man’s own jacket to bind his hands behind the back.  Move down the legs, and to the shoes, using the laces to bind the legs together, then to the hands.  Crude, but now he knew the idiot wasn’t going to be coming after him any time soon.

    Dojima stood up shakily.  Now, he if he could...just….

    Do what? There was no exit from canyon, as far as he could tell.  No one knew he was missing yet; he was away on police business, and wasn’t due to check in with work for another 24 hours.  He wasn’t the best on keeping people updated on his whereabouts.  How long would it take for the kids to figure out what happened?  Would they be able to find him at all?

    A growl rose in his throat as he stared at his reflection in the twisted castle.  The punk had said Seitou was expecting the detective.  No doubt if he didn’t show up soon, the terrorist would come looking for his little escapee.  Damn, he really had no choice.

    He picked up the pistol from where it had fallen in the dirt.  For a place that only existed in people’s hearts, this space sure felt real.  The magazine was full, and the safety was off.  Was this from the real world, or one of those treasure box finds?  No, those weird weapon drops never had serial numbers like the one stamped above this pistol’s grip.  If he survived this, there would have to spend a long time tracing Seitou’s supply routes.

    Ryotaro shook his head.  He was focusing on the wrong things right now.  He was distracting himself from the knowledge he was about to throw himself into a suicide mission.  The only way out of this nightmare was through the boss.

    Carefully, he approached the doorway, keeping an eye out for guards, or more gangbangers.  None seemed to be hanging out at the entrance, but that wasn’t really surprising.  Who was going to stroll through the front door here?

    The first thing he notice through the threshold wasn’t the lack of people, however.

    Fog.  He hadn’t even noticed it was missing until it came back at him, full force, dragging his arms and legs down, roiling his stomach like a ship tossed at sea.  Frantically he scrambled for the glasses he kept in his back pocket, praying they weren’t cracked.  Only when they were fully over his eyes did the sensations stop, and he could breathe a sigh of relief.  

    Flickering lights caught his attention after a moment.  Neon lights, like those in the seedier areas near Okina city, plastered the concrete walls like spray paint.  Gang signs were mixed with incoherent kanji.  The best descriptor the detective could come up with was ‘Strip club meets Prison’.  Made sense, he guessed.  The kids had said before that these structures came from the person’s subconscious; and Seitou had the kind of life where such locations came up a lot.

    An ugly grunt to his left alerted Dojima to the fact that he wasn’t alone in the entrance.  One of those wrestler shadows, who always hit like hell, was bearing down on him.  Without the fire protecting him, the detective wasn’t sure he’d survive one round with the shadow, let alone a full fight.  Not even thinking, he raised the pilfered firearm and aimed.

    The shadow man went down, taken off guard.  Another shot, and suddenly the massive shape was dissolving into the floor, leaving a few old coins and a prayer bead.  Why creatures in another world had money on them, Dojima would never understand.  Probably some pyscho-bullshit about the human consciousness and the obsession with material goods.  The bead would be useful, though.  Anything that could heal him through this mess was another chance in his favor.

    Slowly, he moved through the floor, looking for stairs up and out of this place.  He needed to avoid any fight he could, and just try and get to the top as quickly as possible.  Up around the corner was a door.  Was it the stairs?

    No, but there was a small green horse and a treasure chest.  Deciding it was worth the risk, he snuck behind it, aimed….

    The shot reflected off the beast’s hide and missed Ryotaro’s ear by an inch.  Shit! He managed to dodge the teeth as the bit the air where his shoulder had just been.  Desperate, he called out for a silent voice.   _ Ryūjin! _

His heart sank when there was no answering call in the back of his mind.  He had hoped that even as the strange fire had abandoned him, his persona had held on… 

    There was a flash, a high pitched scream, and the acidic smell of ionized air.  The horse shadow dissipated into nothingness, leaving a single scorch mark on the floor.  There was no sign of the scale armored persona.  _ Ryūjin? _

_     Don’t waste your energy.  You still have a long way to fight. _

    The voice was vague and drifting in his mind, but still a sigh of relief to the detective.  It wasn’t much...but it was something, and a hell of a lot better than nothing.

    The chest held a small golden key.  Useless at the moment, but hopefully it would unlock a better treasure later.  

    Three floors later, it did.  Inside the golden chest was a new weapon; a kanabo, long and thick with wicked spikes, but light enough for him to manage without the supernatural strength he’d relied on before.  He checked the magazine of his ‘borrowed’ sidearm; with only 3 rounds left, it was best to flip the safety back on and stick it in the waistband of his tattered suitpants.

    If nothing else, when his mangled body was found hanging in the real world, it might be enough of a clue to break Seitou’s supply chain.

    Dojima bit the inside of his cheek.  He didn’t want to think such dark thoughts, but he knew that his death was all but assured.  His energy was limited, and the few first aid items he’d collected were only stopgaps for the bruises he was collecting.  

    A memory, from the beginning of this case, flooded his mind’s eye.  Nanako, Yu and himself at the living room table, watching the news of the escaped criminals.  Nanako’s soft, nervous voice filled his ears.   _ “And you’ll go catch the bad guys, right Daddy?” _

_     “No matter what.”  _ He remembered he’d promised. _ “As I said, I want you both safe.” _

    One more promise he’d break with his daughter.  Though this time, he’d at least know he’d died trying.

 

    Ryotaro knew he had to be close to the top when he pulled himself up to the top of the twisting staircase.  The decor had shifted from the dirty concrete and spray paint to glass walls and marble floors.  If the detective wanted to profile the sick bastard in charge, he’d guess this probably was Seitou’s twisted aspirations of being the head of a global criminal enterprise.  Seitou had spouted such delusions when he’d been convicted; that he had ‘connections’ that would see him free.  The supervising officers had assumed this was a reference to Seitou’s connections to Democratic People’s Republic of Korea,though they showed they were more than willing to leave him to rot.

    Maybe, though, Seitou had another ace up his sleeve.  Yu had insisted that Adachi had been the willing pawn of otherworldly forces; maybe Seitou had made a similar deal as well.  No way he’d have come up with all of this on his own….

    The detective stopped getting lost in maybes and what ifs, and forced himself to focus on the physical world around him.  Instead of the usual twisting hallway, the stairs emptied out to a wide, empty room.  Empty, except for the large hulking shadow shaped like an oni in center, guarding the only exit out - and up - that Dojima could see.

_ ‘Come now, little detective.  Did you think I didn’t see you make your way in here, like the pest that you are?’  _  The voice was like oil, coating the room.  _  ‘Interesting that you seem to be familiar with the rules of this place.  No doubt gained when I decided to free myself of your mundane confinements, and assume my rightful place.’ _

It took everything in Dojima’s power not to groan as he rolled his eyes at Seitou’s pontificating.  The man really saw himself as some sort of criminal god.  

The detective blinked as he scanned the room for anything to use in his favor.  Something in the corner of his vision moved; a butterfly? In this place?  But the second he turned to look for it, the little splotch of color was gone.  Only the cold reality that there really was no other way up to the boss.

_ ‘No way out, little pest.  Time for you to learn what the world will know soon enough; Mess with the might of Seitou, and you die.’ _

The Oni shadow moved surprisingly fast.  Dojima barely rolled out of the way as the massive spear blade smashed into the floor where he’d just been standing.  While the oni wrenched the blade out of the crushed floor, Ryotaro slammed the kanabo into the creature’s knees.  It was a solid connection, and the oni sank to its knees, stunned.  Seeing a glimmer of hope, Dojima swung the kanabo again, right at the ugly face….

Only to be sent flying as the spear blocked his strike.  He hit the floor, hard.  His head was swimming.  His limbs felt like lead, pinning him down, even as the spear swung again, right on top of him.

In front of him, the little blue butterfly from before flitted by.  Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe just his impending death, but with each beat of the creature’s wing, time seemed to slow, further and further, until a single flutter took an eternity.  

 

With that, the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. Hopefully someone is still reading this, and isn't too disappointed. I suspect most people saw this final little twist coming, and can guess who is finally going to show themselves with an offer that will either make or break a new contract for Detective Dojima.


	17. Overwhelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truth emerges.

With darkness, the room lost all sense of depth and size.  Perhaps it was just the loss of the giant shadow in the center, but space suddenly felt looming in its emptiness; there were no walls, ceiling, and despite the feeling of something solid beneath Ryotaro’s knees, no floor either. The only source of light was the strange blue butterfly just beyond his outstretched fingertips. With each flutter of its iridescent wings, drops of light fell into the inky air, before it too was swallowed up into the nothingness.

The lithe insect danced further into the darkness, circling in a lazy flight path that slowly created a column of light that grew brighter and brighter.  The detective blinked against the sudden brightness, before the butterfly was swallowed up by its own light, and the column collapsed into the shape of figure.

At the sight of the figure’s mask, Dojima collapsed to the floor, groaning.  Another damned shadow…

“Hm.  Sometimes, detective, it is best not to take things at face value.”  The face behind the mask remained passive. “I come from a place beyond this world… a place between the consciousness and unconsciousness.”

Dojima rubbed a hand across his face; with the adrenaline draining from him, the exhaustion it’d kept at bay met no resistance as it soaked through his very bones, weighing him down. He was just too tired of this.  Shadows, personas, gods and mysteries… he was sick of them all. “So you’re…what? A god?”

Heels clicked on unseen floors as the figure moved closer.  “Hardly, detective.  What are gods, after all, but the dreams and legends of the human experience, given shape? There are sparks of the divine, yes, but even Gods live and die by the wish of human desires; many are nothing more than the shadows of myth given form.  Powerful shadows, sometimes, to influence the collective unconsciousness, but shadows nonetheless.  Maybe once there were gods as you think of them, but all that exists these days are ghosts and memories.”

Questions and confusion swirled through Ryotaro’s brain. “But…”

“Ghosts and memories are powerful things, detective.  Even if it didn’t exist, you tell a story enough and it gains a reality of its own, in a space brought forth by the collective human soul… Sometimes, then, the greater story becomes stronger than the individual.  Inazami thought so, so much that her merged self has made every attempt to give the hopeful narrative that people crave.  She pulled deep, and found a story that fit, and an actor to become her hero.  Humans influence shadows, and shadows, in turn, influence humans…. it’s quite a fascinating play to watch.”

“And what the hell does that make you?” He didn’t have enough energy to be angry, but damned if it was tempting.

“An…observer.” With the mask obscuring his - Dojima was sure it was a he, even with the long auburn ponytail - features, it was hard to place the trickle of emotion behind the words. “Once, I might have allowed myself the title as ‘guide’, but I rarely try to meddle in the worlds on either side these days.  Human curiosity seems to need little prodding towards the path of just hope these days.  Still, with situations like the events with your nephew, I chance an encounter to let the fool stack the deck against mankind’s fears and anxieties.”

“What are you….”

“Over the years, I’ve learned those with bit of that divine spark draw others into their orbit who, too, can fit the roles humanity’s stories crave… Lovers, Priestess, Magician, Emperor and more… enough to fight off the darkest despair.  I knew a powerful shadow was rising… a felt a spark.  A single passing encounter, and…”  There was hesitation there, in this stranger’s voice.  “But even I, who walks between both worlds, makes…errors.  I stepped in too early, drawn to a human with great potential; one who could have been a hero, if he was just given a cause.  In my error, I made a fool - a man who could change the world around him as it changed him - without a story to follow.  No promise to fulfil, he never had his story… until too much time had passed, a new play started, and he’d been recast as the guide and guardian.”

Ryotaro’s head swam.  “Wait… originally, it wasn’t Yu… it was….I was going to….This doesn’t make any sense…!”

“Even as you filled your role, your original nature fought against your fate; when a new story formed, you let your shadow free….  Did you ever notice, detective, that you never actually rejected your shadow self?  You let it free, let it speak, even subdued it… but the process was interrupted when that fool ability, almost gone and dead, found another persona to wield.”

“Kohryu… no, Ryūjin….”

There was a nod from the winged mask. “A rare, powerful shadow, looking for someone to wield it.  One that suited its temperament much better than the other fool involved.  No two fools are alike, after all.”

Dojima sat back, trying to piece this all together.  “So… instead of my own shadow, Ryujin was another persona altogether?  What happen to mine, then?”

“Stuck.  Still attached to you, but free of the bounds of your subconscious, it fought to either burn free or return back to being the voice of your subconscious.  Fed by the immortal peach, it could affect you in some way, recharging far faster than one would expect.  Only when the drink was gone did it know it had to return.”

“That entire time, that fire I thought was killing me...was my shadow?!”

“To be fair, no one expected you, of all people, to take your time to finish a drink.  As long as it was there, your shadow could continue to feed itself without drawing on the missing bond.  Now, with no means to sustain itself, it retreated back to mask of your mind.  Of course, with it returned, any other persona would have a much harder time sustaining a bond with you...”  

No wonder Ryujin was silent these days.

Slowly, the darkness receded between the masked gentleman and the detective.  The marble tile seemed to rise up from the darkness, revealing two weapons placed there.  On the floor to the left was the pistol he’d taken from the thug at the entrance.  On the right, the kanabo, seemingly glowing from an internal heat.

“There is an imbalance here, and I admit that my interference is partially to blame.  So I offer you two paths; which one you will take will be your final story.  One is the return to the mundane, the other further into the den of shadows.  Take the pistol, I will end you contract, and I will wipe my influence from the story.  No more plagues of shadows, you and your shadow will be merged back into one whole, as if you’d never been apart.  You’d never again burn, and without its influence, any inquiry - say, from suspicious police officials - would cease its pursuits.  Your life, as it were, would be back to the mundane, and the predictable.  You’d never deal with the terror of seeing people’s true hearts.”

“There’s a ‘but’ there you’re not mentioning….”

“Ever the detective.  You would be still stuck here, in the Sea of Souls, until another force either saved you or killed you.  Your presence here would eventually lead the Fool and his compatriots to this hidden enclave, but I do not know how long they would to arrive take.”

“So, I’d die, but Yu would take down Seitou. The other path would be?”

“Take the kanabo, and you will have a chance to take back the fire that let you fight before.  You would once again be able to attempt to wield it, for better or worse. However,” a pale hand silenced the question before Ryotaro knew he even wanted to ask it, “There is still a possibility it will kill you.  How it burns is beyond man’s control, and this time, you will fight it without any compatriots; to tame it is your fight alone.

“I also cannot tell you if it will be enough to fight the shadows ruling this realm.  The man you call Seitou… he has somehow called upon a great enemy even I once thought dead.”

“So… I could die either way, and neither one guarantees Seitou is stopped.”  A thought struck the detective from the year before.  “What happens if I die?  I mean, if I die here?”

“Your body would reappear in the conscious world, like the others who have lost their fights here.  With another body like those of Mayumi Yamato and Saki Konishi, they would no doubt reopen the serial murder case.  Tohru Adachi’s case would be overturned, and he would be released-” Eyes behind the mask blinked as he realized his speech was falling on deaf ears.  “Ah, made your choice already?”

Dojima raised the kanabo over his shoulder, having grabbed it with little hesitation.  “Wasn’t much of a choice to make. I may not like it, but turning your eyes to unpleasant truth is not something I can do.  I’d rather die fighting, and I am sure as hell not letting a murderer walk free for my own piece of mind.  However...” He snagged the pistol, “I’ll need this, too.  You’re not taking my evidence just for your little mind games.”

“Oh, cut the swagger. So easy to put on a brave front, isn’t it?”  A familiar voice came from behind him.  No matter what he knew what was supposed to happen, seeing your own face staring back at you is always a jarring experience.  No longer the well dressed detective, the shadow from his heart looked about as disheveled as he felt.  The yellow eyes flashed in anger.  “Never can admit we’re scared shitless.”

It really was so easy to pretend what it was saying wasn’t true.  “Of course I’m frightened.  I’ve been scared ever since I first found out you - no, this whole world - existed.  Nevermind all the times you nearly got us killed these last few months.”

Calloused hands grabbed the collar of the Kirijo tech shirt he was still wearing, pushing him back and up.  “ME?  YOU were the one who wouldn’t just let me take over.  Had to keep fighting me, pushing me away!  So scared about having to change your worldview you couldn’t see the gift you’d been given.  Instead you closed your eyes and pretend there wasn’t more to the world that you couldn’t control.  I saved your ass, Ryotaro.  Made you twice the cop you could ever be by yourself!”

Denial was on the tip of his tongue.  He’d tried so hard to keep his mind open; closing yourself off to new ideas made you a lousy cop.  But all of this… he’d have to admit he was completely lost here, no matter how much it stung.  “Just making me stronger doesn’t make me a better cop.”

The punch connected solidly with his jaw, sending Dojima staggering back, before the shadow caught him again, keeping him from sinking down to his knees with those burning this throat.  “What would you have me do? You needed me to fight! Without me, Adachi would be free and you’d be stuck behind a desk for the rest of your life, miserable, rotting away with nothing to fight for.  Without me, you’re nothing more than a washed up hick detective from the sticks.”

Ryotaro Dojima hung his head.  “Yeah.”

This was not what his shadow was expecting. “What? You *admit* it?”

It took all his effort to look straight into his own face, and lock with those yellow eyes.  “Yeah.  This is beyond anything I’ve ever encountered before.  This isn’t something I know how to solve.  I used to think I knew everything I needed to be a detective, but if the last year taught me anything, I don’t know a damn thing.” He grabbed the shoulders of his own shadow, not fighting, just connecting with, man to man.

“Look, I need you.  You’re right, I’m out of my depth, and without your influence, I’d have never gotten cleared back into the field, or hell, killed.  But that doesn’t matter, unless we bring this monster down and keep everyone safe.  You wouldn’t have bothered with all of that unless you knew that too.  So either we can keep arguing about how much we both suck, or we can get this over with and beat the crap out of the real monster waiting for us.  Deal?”

“Deal.  Man, you are a straight up pain in the ass, you know that?”  The outline of the shadow faded as it seemed to burn itself with a white hot light.

Dojima blinked.  There was no dragon, no mythical creature.  The persona looked...well, a lot like he did, just dressed in old fashioned armor and hunting gear, a veil masking the lower half of his...its face.  A bow and quiver rested on its shoulders, and there was a strength and stubbornness in the stance.  The persona stepped forward, and Dojima had to remember not to back away as it kept moving forward, into him.  It filled him with a pleasant heat; no longer burning or scouring his core, but energizing him, an armor from skin to bone. _I am thou...Thou art I…._

_Hikohohodemi…._

A vague memory of history half remembered surfaced… “Wait...Hikohohodemi... wasn’t he also known as Hoori? Is that why I was called that?”

There was a subtle smile from the strange observer, but nothing more.  Another voice, however, roared into the air around him.  “You have his spirit, that’s why.  You are Hoori, Hikohohodemi no Mikoto… One who was fire and bow before he sank under the waves to be reborn as the wheat… Groom of Otohime… Son-in-law of the great Sea Dragon Ryūjin.  Don’t think I’ve abandoned you, yet.”  The vague form of Ryūjin, blue scales rustling, began to sharpen into focus as it loomed above him.  

“And so the ability of the wildcard takes its shape… unusual.”  The observer tilted his head, finger tapping the edge of the mask.  “Instead of access to the full arcana of the compendium, only two… but the ability to wield both personas at once.  How humanity keeps surprising me.”  

The masked man...god...shadow… _whatever_ began to fade into the same light he’d appeared in.  “Take care, detective, and fight.  This world depends on it.”

And with that, the darkness vanished.

Time seemed to restart with a lurch, or more accurately with a smash.  It took a moment to realize the sound was actually the spear of the shadow slicing the marble floor in front of him.

The oni shadow recovered from the miss hit far too quickly.  Dojima weighed his options… he still wasn’t sure what his persona’s abilities were….

_Block it!_

His forearms caught the blade in a cross arm block, the metal shattering like glass.  Before the giant could register why its cutting attack failed to do just that on the puny human, Hikohohodemi had him twisted the metal pole of the spear up and away, grabbing it with an iron hold.  The oni kept pulling, confused why it couldn’t budge the spear.  Dojima smirked.

Electricity arced up the pole from his hands, into the oni, still grasping the spear.  Ryūjin roared in his ears as the oni fell, obviously weak to the sudden attack.  Now was his chance to end this.

He let the ruined spear fall to the floor with a clatter.  In a moment, the kanabo was back in his hand, like an old friend.  He wound up, a batter looking for pitch, before letting loose with everything he had.

The full weight of the weapon smashed through the prone shadow, the dark form splitting like a wave against the force; its form already fading away into the marble floor before Dojima had a chance to stand up straight.

He’d never felt more alive in his life than right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Philemon is impossible to write, as his very appearance, let alone characterization changes from title to title. Is he a god? Are there gods in any sense in Persona? Is he a powerful shadow? Is he running the story, or just watching it? Is he a dick? (Yes)... So I threw my hands up and just used him as he was written: a bloody huge Deus Ex Machina. He's here to grant power and access to the heart of man, and exposition us all to death.
> 
> Sorry this is such a wordy, unwieldy chapter. I just like to think there are others out there that have the ability of the wildcard that just, due to circumstances, never get their story. I mean, Inazami could have easily shaken Dojima's hand at the gas station (and the animation did a nice job of having a bit of a fakeout there). Sure, Yu, Adachi and Namatame got to enter the TV world because of that handshake, but its only a previous meeting with Philemon and the Velvet Room that allows Yu to become the protagonist int the story. Inazami had been building power for a while... I have no doubt there were backups in place just in case. (Shit, she's only picking adults so far... maybe we were right with the uncle. No, wait, she's going for the kid! Eh, nobody want to play as a grizzled hunk of a detective, right? We're clear.)
> 
> So, yeah, the bottle was a basically supposed to be a bit of a red herring/McGuffin. Every time Dojima was drinking from it, he was, ah, reupping his 'HP/SP' so that his broken persona could keep running, even as it was trying to fix their unfinished connection. Now that everything is all connected and booted up, Dojima's all set and ready to roar....
> 
> ...Right? 
> 
> Maybe. Heh. 
> 
> (No, are you kidding? There are 2-3 chapters left!)


	18. Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Dojima's got his personas sorted. But what about Seitou?

It was trouble enough to start arguing with yourself.  When there are two extra voices involved, you’re really got to worry.  If none of them will shut up, you’re doomed.

As Dojima crouched behind a corner, waiting for a hallway to clear, he was pretty sure that if this kept up, he’d be dead in a matter minutes.

_ You always did have a flair for the dramatic, under that hardboiled exterior. _ Hikohohodemi growled.  _ All I am saying is, you’re no longer powerless. With both me and Ryūjin at your back, you don’t need to be sulking in the shadows.  You’re not the criminal here, lay the law down around. _

_ I agree _ , Ryūjin murmured,  _ now we’re properly aligned, there’s little need to worry about being overwhelmed _ .

Dojima stifled a groan.   _ I swear if you two don’t shut up, I will bash my head against a wall until I’m unconscious, and then we’ll  _ **_all_ ** _ be dead _ .

_ The wall will disintegrate first, dumbass _ .  Hikohohodemi somehow made it possible to  **hear** a smirk.   _ Or did you already forget what I can do? _  Unbidden memories of the concrete pillar at the precinct’s garage swam through his head.

_ Yes, we already fought about this.   _ Dojima growled, internally _.  What I’m saying is, no matter how easy these shadows may be, they’re not our main target here.  Somewhere up ahead is Seitou Norburo, in league with something that is almost guaranteed to be even stronger than all of us on a *good* day, on their home turf.  If I’m going to have even a slim chance of being able to survive this to see Nanako again, we need to use more than power to get through this.  We need to watch our stance and use every tactic we can.  So, unless you have something else planned other than ‘run straight into a possible trap and get myself killed,’  _ **_shut up_ ** _! _

The was an almost blissful silence for a while after that.  The detective almost felt bad for using Nanako as a bargaining chip; with the close bond between the three of them, she was by far the most important thing they all held dear.  None of them were willing to have a world unsafe for his daughter, not after he’d almost lost her once.

_ It was because of your contract with her that we were able to join together, after all _ . Ryūjin murmured.   _ The wildcard ability needs a contract to instigate.  You promised to keep her safe _ .

Dojima briefly considered how many times he’d promised that very thing and failed to do just that in the last year, and grumbled.  If that was the case, had he have been one of the people Adachi or Namatame threw in the TV World last year, would this whole mess he’d suffered the last few months ever happened? Or would it have been even worse, having all that power and no way to save Nanako?

_ Enough of the introspection, we’ve got company _ .  Sure enough, three burly variations of the wrestler shadows, covered in yakuza tattoos and little else rounded the corner, their scanning masks not giving him an opening to just slip by.  Might as well get a little fun in before the final showdown.

Hikohohodemi made this a painfully unfair fight.  The persona’s influence on the detective’s body made these shadows’ physical attacks near useless.  Dojima dodged the first massive punch aimed at him, grabbing the oversized forearm with both hands and twisting it upwards.  A sickening crack followed, as the elbow rose in an unnatural angle.  After a moment, the shadow dissipated into mist under the iron grip.

_ You’ve got a real sadistic streak _ , Hikohohodemi observed, as Dojima kicked out the knees of the next wrestler, felling it, then pinning the huge form on its front as he twisted its left arm back.

_ You would know; weren’t you that part of me I kept repressed? _  A moment passed before the shadow underneath him, too, melted into the floor.  

The last shadow proved trickier than the last two.  It was fast enough to dodge the first two swings of the kanabo, but still missed Dojima with a wild swinging rampage.  The detective grabbed the shadow’s greasy hair as it passed.  He pulled it back with sharp jerk, before twisting the neck with a snap.  Something dark and disgusting gushed from the shadow’s mouth before it reverted into the primordial slime it had once been.

_ See, I don’t think you’ve ever bothered repressing it.  You just never admitted you  _ **_liked_ ** _ it _ .

____________________________

“Mitsuru-san, you told me to let you know if we had any odd readings from the persona regulation unit, and… well, I’m sending the data to your laptop now.  Yes, the signatures match almost identically to Tartarus and the readings from last May.”

“No, he left for his hotel about an hour and a half ago.  I could call his cellphone for… oh, you’ve already tried that.  No, no plans for field tests.  No, we decided against a geolocator for privacy concerns….”

“I understand.”  The engineer clicked the phone off, watching the huge volume of data roll in from the prototype.  “Eh, he’s probably fine.  All the more data for us to use, the better...right?”  

_____________________________

 

The structure was bizarrely laid out; as far as he could have seen from the outside, the tower rose up like a cone, capping at a sharp, jagged point.  However, inside it seemed the floors got larger as he made his way higher, particularly up those last three floors.  How high did it go?

The last floor had been brutal, and Dojima took a moment to chug one of the strange medical concoctions that he’d picked up from the last fight.  How his nephew seemed to just know how these things worked was beyond him.  Who picks up a bottle from the dissolving goo of an enemy and goes, ‘eh, looks safe enough’?

Honestly, he hoped that the kids manage figure out where he was in time.  The further he’d gone, and the shadows had gotten more powerful, more tricky to predict, the more he became aware that this really was going to kill him.  No backup, no support; his nephew might have been insane to deal with all of this as a teenager, but he wasn’t an idiot. Strong, trusted allies were important, and the kid had found them with his motley crew.  Though, the idea of any of them dying to save him made him just as glad they were still safe, on the other side of the tv.

Stairs seemed to twist and shift underneath him for a moment before he reached the stability of the next level.  Slowly, he peered around the edge of the stairwell, trying to discover what monsters were lurking here… but there was nothing.  The short hallways was deserted, save the ornate, oversized door looming at the end of it.  

A door adorned with skulls, chains, and blood.

Hackles on the back of his neck began to prick up.  Something was terribly wrong with this floor, which probably meant only one thing.  

Seitou.

He looked to either side of the door, looking for a means to slip past the trap of a front door.  There was nothing, unfortunately, that suggested anything else for him to use.  His ears did catch the snippets of conversation from the crack of the vestibule. 

“I thought you said nobody could get past the upper floors of this place. That monster you ripped out of Kazuma was supposed to kill anything we wanted.  So why is it dead, and that detective almost up here?!”

“Nah, we’ll be fine, right?  What’s he going to do in here, arrest us?  Seitou is linked to this whole place.  You would have told us if we needed to hightail it out of here, right?”

“Shut up, you two.”  That was definitely Seitou’s voice, but it sounded… off.  Like his speech was being mixed with a voice scrambler.

“He’s here.”

_ So much for the element of surprise, damn _ .

The door pushed open easily enough, but that loud creak and groan it made while doing so made sure that all of the men inside had their eyes glued to Dojima, as the detective slipped in.  If the situation wasn’t so dangerous, it would definitely be highly awkward.

Scanning the room, his eyes widened. Mirrors.  Every single surface was covered with thousands and thousands of mirrors, warping the reflections in their surfaces.

Wait, no, they weren’t just reflecting the room.  He could see people going about their daily lives inside those mirrors.  Shoppers looking at things to buy, cars driving by, people adjusting their appearance in what they thought were their reflections.  Even people in their own bathrooms; good to know that on top of everything else, Seitou was a sick pervert as well.  No matter the subject matter, a hard ball of worry sank in Dojima’s gut.  He could monitor everything from here.  See every move they’d make in real time.  No wonder they’d never seemed to catch up to him.  

A movement in the center of the room drew him away from the sickening realization.  A twisted mound of bodies, burned black into charcoal corpses, mingled with oversized ammunition sat in the center, with a portion rising up to form a crude chair.  Three of Seitou’s old buddies, ones who’d they’d been looking for in the last few weeks, stood around it, scrambling for their guns at the sight of him.  So this is where they were hiding, but… Seitou wasn’t there. Where was he-?

That answer came as something slammed into him with the force of a speeding car.  Two black clawlike hands gripped his throat as the twisted face of Seitou Noboru filled his view.

“Hello, detective.  Nice of you to join us.”

The breath stank like death and rot.

Wildly, Dojima swung the kanabo one handed with all his might into the man’s side, sending him flying off.  Immediately Ryotaro fell back into a defensive stance, holding his weapon up between him and his attacker, ready to strike or block whatever came next.  

Unfortunately, Seitou seemed to recover just as quickly.

Whatever bargain the former inmate had struck to come to this place had not treated him particularly well in the way of his looks.  Nobody would have called Seitou exactly handsome to start with, that was for sure, though apparently he’d been able to exude a certain slimy charm through his scarred lip and patchy eyebrows. He still wore the overly slick suit that had always marked him as a yakuza wannabe, which was relatively uncrumpled by the assault.  Now, however, much of that was covered up by a growing blackness across his limbs, blurring the line from skin and cloth. Grotesque fingers were now claws that seemed to come to smoky tendrils instead of points.   

Most obvious was the golden crown that now covered the top of his head, helmet-like.  Thick, dull spikes covered its surface, menacing as it was ostentatious.  Seitou’s eyes matched the tarnished color as they stared at the detective, sizing him up.

Golden eyes, of course.  What was it with villains being completely in tune with their shadows?  Guess enjoying the worst in life made you more open to channeling your inner demons.  

“Ahh….I recognize you… you used to come to the prison on occasion. The little renegade cop’s partner, yeah?  No wonder you’re a bit more than useless with this place than most people.  Dojima, right?”

The man in question didn’t answer. He merely watched his opponent, waiting for an opening.  As the other man teetered a moment on his feet, the detective took a chance and swung for the blackened legs.  Seitou dodged most of the assault, though the kanabo shredded some of the silverish grey suit in the process.  

Patatatatat!

It took a moment for Dojima to realize those few gangbangers and henchmen he’d seen were shooting at him.  It was a testament to Hikohohodemi’s power how little the shots that connected bothered him, but it was still an annoyance - and more importantly, it was distracting him from Seitou’s exact movements.

Something knocked the air out of Dojima’s lungs, sending him tumbling forward.  “Were you the one to bring in your partner, after he’d used this place to kill?  No wonder he was so willing to complain about everything.”  

A hard kick hit his ribs.  Damnit, he  _ felt _ that one.  “I was already considering killing someone here, just to let it show up like the others did last year.  We watched that story all year long in jail, laughing at you numbskulls, unable to to do a thing.  Wonder what people would do if another one showed up?  Would they think it a copycat killer? Or worse, see you pigs as the worthless idiots you are?”

The next kick met with empty air, as the detective pushed his speed to the max.  Up came the kanabo, smashing into the twisted criminal’s face.  Blood and spit spattered from the hit. 

“AAAAUGH!”  The howl was almost inhuman, as the criminal ducked back into the shadows

Another bullet ricocheted off Dojima’s shoulder, as he caught movement from the left of him.   _ We need to get rid of the support, before they can heal this punk _ , Ryujin rumbled.  

_ Not exactly close enough for me to hit _ , Dojima grumbled.  Memory of the plastic window at visitor’s room came to mind, suddenly.   _ Oh... that could work _ .

Keeping an eye out for Seitou, the detective picked up a bit of rubble at his feet.  Grasping it by his thumb and index finger, he waited for the gangbanger to squeeze another shot.   Sure enough, he caught the glint of metal taking aim, giving him a target.  He flicked the rubble, sending it flying at the gunner’s head.

Even Dojima had to wince at the unpleasant crack the rubble made bouncing off his target.  Not enough to kill, but definitely enough to stun.  The way the head met the floor afterwards, there was little doubt that gangbanger was going anywhere.

One down...a couple more to go. 

Sudden movement to his left made the detective dodge just in time from another swipe of those inhuman claws.  Seitou was still fighting, but he sure had been seeing better days, as blood mixed with a shadowy black ooze dripped down his face.  

Taking a chance, Dojima shoved the kanabo in between the escaped convict’s legs, twisting it forward and knocking him off balance.  While he fell forward, Dojima wrapped his hands around one of those claws arms and twisted it up and forward.

The same moment Seitou’s right arm made the sickening ‘CRACK’ of splintering bone, the left claws managed to find purchase in Dojima’s shoulder, digging deep gouges into the detective’s chest.  Both men stumbled back in pain.

There was another shot that bounced off Dojima’s head.  No longer calm enough to restrain himself, Ryūjin let loose a storm of lightning that stunned the remaining gangbanger, energy reserves be damned.  Finally, he could focus on Seitou without outside interference-

His whole body lurched as multicolored spots swam through his vision.  _ Shit, those damned claws were poisoned! _  Desperately, his hands dug through his pockets for the smaller vials of antidote; he knew he’d picked up a few in his trek up the stairs.  C’mon, c’mon…

Dodging almost drunkenly from a wild swing of those mangled claws, Dojima managed to swallow a dose of both the antidote and one of those healing gels Tatsumi swore by.  It was a weird sensation to feel his own flesh stitch back together, but he had more important things to worry about.  Like the fact he was nowhere near as invulnerable as he’d thought, particularly against Seitou.

_ Don’t count us out yet _ .  The fire he’d spent the last several months fighting began to stoke in his core.   _ It’ll burn energy a little faster, but that should make us a little more armored against those smoke hooks _ .  Hikohohodemi’s voice was snarling.  

Dojima didn’t have time question his persona’s assertions.  Dodging from another swing from Seitou’s good left side, he ended up right in the path of a newly healed right set of claws.  They screeched like nails on a chalkboard, shredding both the remnants of the grey dress shirt and the wire undershirt from Kirijo, but the black claws failed to break the skin underneath.  The kanabo’s swing wasn’t so kind to Seitou.

Seitou changed tactics after that.  Wind and ice buffeted his opponent, trying to find a weakness.  Not anything that knock Dojima off his feet, but annoying (and draining) all the same.  The detective responded with coming in fast and quick, the kanabo smashing in over and over, sometimes laced with the electric shock of Ryūjin, and sometimes molten hot with Hikohohodemi’s temper.

_ CRACK! _

His lungs screamed, everything ached, he was down to his last med kit and soul drop, but Dojima was pretty sure that he’s was faring a whole lot better than his opponent.  That last wallop of the kanabo had sent the convict flying; he hadn’t moved once from the heap he’d landed in.

Nearly half the mirrors surrounding them were smashed, glass crunching under ruined dress shoes as they stepped cautiously forward.  “Give it up, Seitou, you lost.”

“Nev-er.  I’m...not...going...back.” Somehow, the words rang a little hollow when the figure they were coming from was currently in a fetal position.  “You’ll… have to kill me.  Wouldn’t that be hilarious?  You’d be responsible for the next body to show up in the fog… no better than that snake of a partner you had! Hehe...he….heh.”

“Not gonna happen, Seitou.  Not everybody is as faithless as you.”  Damn, the kanabo was heavy in his hand.

“Oh, but they are, detective.  How do you think I got into a place like this?  People hide so much in their hearts.  So many sins….” Dojima paused.  Seitou sounded different.

“I’m only as bad as people wanted me to be!  I did it all because people expected it!  You think people want what’s best, but no, they secretly know the world is full of shit.  So I figured, when it offered, why not give them the shitty world everyone suspected everything to be.  Let them know true madness.  Then I would be their...Kiiiiiiinnnnggg….”

At the last word, Seitou’s head snapped up to stare at his adversary.  Those eyes… no pupils, they were like two solid gold orbs staring past Dojima, into the greater world.  

Black, inky shadow dripped from that stupid crown, drowning Seitou’s skin.  A limb, then two jerked up, then forward, hauling the blackening body upwards, even as those gold eyes never left the detective.  Claws lengthened and writhed, dancing upon still broken limbs as circular suckers, like those of a blue ringed octopus, sprouted up them. Black batlike wings opened behind him, sending another gale whipping past Dojima

THIS WORLD IS NOT WORTH SAVING.  IT IS NOTHING BUT A THIN VENEER OF SANITY OVER AN EVER GROWING PILE OF SIN AND LOATHING.

That was definitely not Seitou’s voice.  It took effort just to keep standing, as the voice rattled inside one’s skull.

I AM THE SHADOWS IN ALL MEN’S HEARTS.  THE END THEY ALL SECRETLY DESIRE.

  
NYARLATHOTEP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how about that high school basketball team?
> 
> Yep, so I'm not original in the least. Bring back Philemon? Welp, gotta bring back Nyarlathotep too! I'm not 100% sure this where I was originally planning to go, but... well, there's something appropriate about bringing back Cthulhu mythos when we're dealing with the depravity found in the edges of society. His appearance here (since it changes game to game) is a mashup of SMT and his Persona appearances. Think... Somewhat human sockpuppet stuffed with octopi. Ewww.
> 
> Feel free to tell me everything I'm doing wrong in the comments; WE'RE ALMOST DONE, BABY!


	19. The final push

Ryotaro Dojima blinked, then blinked again when the bright light proved to be too much to his tired, beleaguered eyes.  Vaguely, he recalled something about a crazy fight- something out of some wacky late night anime one of the rookies had watched while they took a break from running through the thousands of tips that had been coming in on Seitou.  

    “Dojima-san!” Right, someone was calling his name.  Wantanabe, the kid that had taken over Adachi’s desk after...last year.  “Dojima-san, there’s been a call for you.  They want you down in the shopping district.  Someone’s found a body.”

    That woke him up like a fresh pot of coffee.  His feet hit the floor and he stood, catching his hand on the desk briefly as his body protested the movement.   _Funny_ , he felt… battered; bruised from more than falling asleep in his office chair.

    Something felt off.  Sure, he’d slept at the station before, but that was rare, after… his thoughts seemed elusive for the moment.  Bad news for a detective, if he couldn’t organize his thoughts on even a small amount of sleep.  Maybe the sergeant was right; maybe he needed to take the promotion and stick to desk work, let the younger kids deal with the long nights and walking the beat.

Ryotaro grabbed his head.  What the hell did that come from?  That was the last thing he wanted.  Something was definitely wrong, here.  But whatever it was, it would have to wait until after he dealt with whatever was down at the shopping district.

* * *

 

That feeling of unease grew worse and worse as Dojima’s cruiser pulled up to the tarps blocking the crime scene.  His stomach felt like it was in knots; all of this felt… scarily familiar.  He tried to ignore it, push it down and away as he nodded to the supervising officer who let him through the police tape.  He walked forward to find the first on scene and forensics to learn what had happened.

_This was wrong.   Why didn’t they tell him more at the station?  He was already working a case, why did they pull him for another situation?  He felt like he was forgetting something; something important…._

A chill ran up his spine and his eyes kept scanning around the scene, even as he approached two patrol officers taking notes.  It all felt eerily familiar.  The cops climbing the roofline.  The whispers of confusion.  The body hanging from the….

No.

The officer next to him was going on about the victim.  “...poor kid found the body after she left school early, in order to get to work….”   _That’s not right, they didn’t know until after her own disappearance that Konishi had skipped school…but that why was this bothering him now?_

Dojima cut both his own thoughts and the officer off with raised hand. “Who’s the victim?”

“Adachi Tohru.”

Something in him wanted to react.  Wanted him to break down and scream that it was happening again.  A stronger presence in his mind told him to fight… _fight what?_

He looked at the patrolman straight in the face.  Something about younger man’s features made the detective want to look away, to focus on something else, but that presence told Dojima he needed to keep his eyes on him.

“Say it again.”  The officer looked at him, confused, and Dojima almost relented to letting his request drop.  But he knew, _something_ wasn’t right.  Something needed him to push back against this whole thing.

“Noburo Seitou.”  There, something shifted.  Funny, he knew everyone in the district.  Why couldn’t he remember this officer’s name?

“Say it again.”

“Narukami Yu.” He could feel the illusion slowly start to crumble.  There was a heavy weight in his hands, comforting in its natural feel against his palms.

“Say. It. Again.”

“Dojima Chiisato.”  He remembered.  Remembered every crazy thing that had happened over the last few months; the tv world, the prison escape, the bombing, the kidnapping, the realization that the world was more than the boxes he’d been so willing to put it in.

“SAY. IT. AGAIN.”

“Dojima Nanak-”

“ _WRONG._ ”

 

Dojima couldn’t figure out if that was his own voice cutting off the illusion, Ryūjin’s, or Hikohohodemi’s. Maybe it was all three of them.  Whatever the case, it was the final push to pull the blindness from his eyes and to be back in the awful room of one way mirrors.  Back to being face to face with the monster that had taken over the form of Seitou Noburo.  He slammed the kanabo up into the black slithering mass that had been trying to break his mind before it disposed of him like the others that had been eaten by their own shadows.

What might serve as the head of the creature snapped back unnaturally with the blow, but it quickly regrouped, sending a heavy gale blowing at the persistent detective.

‘I was trying to be kind, giving you a painless death.  You humans are always so...ungrateful.’

“Yeah, right.  You just want us all to lay down at your feet, to just give up without a fight.”  There was no question that he was going to die now.  The last of his energy had gone into blocking that last attack; Dojima knew his hits weren’t doing anything to this creature.  Still, he knew now the kids would figure it out; somehow they’d follow his trail and finish this.  He was at peace with that outcome.

 _No regrets_ , Hikohohodemi smirked, exhaustion tinged at the edges of his presence.

 _Agreed_ , Ryūjin echoed, the older persona’s presence faint in his mind.

 _Bullshit_.  He had plenty of regrets.  He wanted to keep his promise to Nanako, to be able to come home to her; to see her grow up.  However, if it was her life -and the worlds’- for his own, he could live, no, _die_ with this.  He held the kanabo high, knowing it would never be able to block the awful attack about to erupt from those writhing tentacles… but still at peace.  No one would accuse him of not going down fighting.

“UNCLE!”

Ryotaro’s eyes snapped open, half convinced this was another illusion, if not for the sudden feeling of a healing spell and the faint sheen of a shield surround him.  The surging limbs of the creature bounced against it with a painful slap.  

Ryotaro couldn’t decide if he should laugh or cry at the sight of the ragtag group of teenagers and young adults charging into the battle, being led by his nephew.  So he did neither and focused back on the creature that was once Seitou Noburo.  “Took your sweet time, kid!”

Yu’s small smirk was welcoming as the young man tossed his uncle a glittering golden item that energized him the moment it touched his fingers.  “To be honest, I was worried we’d be too late.”  The confession was barely a whisper.

“Let’s not think about that, okay? You got here, that’s what counts.”

“Head’s up!”  An unfamiliar feminine voice rang through his head, and his nephew quickly erected a defensive boosting spell.  An explosion rocked the ground around them, and several of the teens were knocked to their feet.  That boxer kid, Sanada, dodged the almighty attack and shocked the lower half of the monster’s legs...limbs...whatever.  Didn’t do a ton of damage, but it stunned it well enough.  

More kids recovered and attacked it with everything they had.  One of the kids he didn’t recognise, but reminded him a hell of a lot of Hanamura, sent a fire break sigil with his persona.  Tatsumi then followed it up with a blow that seemed to do the same thing for electricity.  The others, including his nephew, followed up with hits of their own; someone decided that the man of the hour shouldn’t be left behind, and he could feel both of his personas ripple with power as they were filled with energy boosters.  The ground shook again as the former Seitou Noburo crashed to his knees, glaring at the detective that had brought him such misery.

That unfamiliar voice rang in his head again.  “Ah! Dojima-san, he’s powering up for a massive blow!  He’s weak to fire, electricity, and neutral to wind.  You’ve got to take him out!”

The girl didn’t need to tell him twice. Hikohohodemi shifted power into his legs, letting Dojima jump high into the air, before shifting the power back up into his chest and arms as the man wound up for a swing of a lifetime.  Fire and heat coursed through his grip, creating a flaming tornado around the length of the kanabo; the power coursing through him popped the last remaining seam on his shirt.

Lightning joined the roiling fire, and all three of them, the detective, the forgotten prince and the raging sea god all held the metal rod for dear life as it crashed into the thing that had caused them so much pain.  They kept gripping as the force of the blow shattered that golden crown, and exploded through the inky blackness that poured out from it, down to the sniveling wannabe gangster at its core.  

* * *

 

Light blinded everyone in the room, shattering ever little mirror left in a flurry of sparks and glitter.  Only after blinking away the spots did the others see the detective bind the fugitive’s hands, then haul the limp man onto a shoulder, treating the criminal with the same dignity one would offer a slab of meat.  The fight was over.  It took all of Dojima’s effort to not say something pithy, other than a muttered, “You’re under arrest.”  Anything else would make him feel like he enjoyed all of this, sinking him down to Seitou’s level.  He might have taken down something akin to an elder god, but he was a cop first.  Real cops preferred if the violence never happened in the first place.

Everyone waited for someone else to say something, before they all tried to speak at once.

“There were a couple others… I think behind….”

“Pops, that was awesome!”

“Dojima-san, you should be careful, you’ve got a lot of bruises….”

“Holy fuck that was….”

“Impressive, sir.”

“Seeing something like that…”

“...that’s why I want to be a cop!”

“Oh, man, I gotta piss…”

“Guys, time to get out of there!”

    Everyone stopped, and looked at each other, not quite sure who’d said what.  Someone giggled.  Another chuckled.  Soon they were all letting their fears drain away, finally relaxing.  Dojima couldn’t help but let a smirk cross his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. To make up for it, you get two chapters for the price of one?
> 
> Who am I kidding, everyone's left already.


	20. Epilogue: Loose Ends

The offices of the SIU were unusually quiet as the secretary phoned up to the office of their director.  “Sir?  Your 2pm just arrived.”

    “Ryotaro Dojima? Very well. Send him up.”

    So the man had made it after all.  He admitted, wiping his glasses with a cloth as he looked out to his floor to ceiling view of Tokyo, he’d begun to worry the man might not show.  His contacts had let him know the moment the detective had marched, bruised and bloody, into the temporary precinct of Yasoinaba, Seitou Noburo slung over his shoulder two days previous.  Such a pity that all their careful planning around using a criminal to do their dirty work, whose knowledge of his targets could be blamed on the cop turned inmate, had fallen apart so quickly.  They hadn’t even managed half what they’d planned, let alone moved on to the political targets as they’d hoped to.

    Still, if they managed to get this Dojima and his persona usage into their fold, away from the Kirijo group, it would have been well worth it.  A man able to use powers of this so-called ‘metaverse’ in the real world was a rare boon, and surely with a few well placed words to keep the detective paranoid and convinced their work was for the greater good, he’d be a much better asset than the petty criminal he’d cost them.  

Ah, there was the door….

    The two people who walked through were definitely not Detective Dojima.  “How dare…!”

    The platinum blonde man smirked as he pulled off the brown wig, nodding to the red headed woman behind him.  “The good detective couldn’t make it, Director.  So we thought we’d do him a favor, and come talk to you personally while he’s busy with the press conference.”

    “What press conference-” Mitsuru Kirijo cut him off with a wave, pointing to the TV in the bookcase behind him.  The director, still keeping an eye on the two intruders, fumbled for the remote in his desk drawer.  It clicked on, right to NHK, where sure enough….

    Detective Ryotaro Dojima looked every inch uncomfortable, just as much from the dozens of microphones vying for space in front of him as the worry that if he breathed to hard, he’d pop a button off his dress uniform, which at this point was at its limit fighting a losing battle to stay closed.  Hikohohodemi’s influence on his body was never going to stay completely hidden, even if they were now in sync.

    “...As I was saying, the criminal Seitou Noburo is back in custody, as well as his top three lieutenants.”

“Detective Dojima, Detective Dojima! Is it true that part of the reason for Seitou’s elusiveness was due to him having contacts within the police force?!”  The reporter calling out was a plant arranged by Kirijo’s enterprise, her familiar dark short hair and stormy eyes behind her glasses catching his as she pressed on.  She was placed to ask just that question to make it seem less like Dojima, the man of the hour, was using his spotlight to drag out the rats that had come to light with Seitou’s capture.  Whatever her true nature, he was glad she was on their side.

The cold glare that the detective gave the cameras was enough to make many of the reporters take a step back.  “Unfortunately, yes.  In our subsequent interrogation with Seitou, it came to light that several members of our fine police force had, through their own greed or blackmail, aided the criminal in his evasion of justice.  Most of these officers, who failed their sworn duty to uphold the law and protect the citizens of Japan from such a menace, have confessed to their crimes. They are being interrogated as we speak, to make sure that any accomplices are brought to justice and anyone who seeks to use the law in this country to their own gain are dealt with the fullest extent of that law.”

“Detective, is it true you brought down the fugitive yourself?!”

 ....

As the detective stuttered at the attention, the Director kept his expression neutral.  All that effort, put to waste.  “My, that is a terrible turn of events….”

The head of Kirijo Industries was having none of it.   “Three of the officers involved with Seitou’s escape recently had their records wiped by someone at this office.  One of those officers even claimed he was given direct orders to use the investigation as a means to bench Ryotaro Dojima, and make sure that he was indisposed when Kirijo announced they were looking into stolen research.  Research, I would add, that still has yet to be recovered.”

“Such a tragedy.  I will make sure that such leads are followed up by my most trusted men; as for detective Dojima, you must understand, after the events with his partner, we have to be very careful to make sure that such awful evil wasn’t the result of undue influence from his senior partner….”

“I think the events of the last few days, let alone his actions throughout the fugitive hunt would have put that matter to rest.  Surprisingly enough, despite his public profile, the detective is happy to continue being just that; a detective in Yasoinaba.  The public seems determined to keep him right where he is, too.  Despite, I might add, the offer of a sizeable salary and much more ...secure employment, the man even turned down an offer of employment in the Kirijo Shadow Operatives.”

A nasty smirk tugged at the Director’s lips.  “Such a pity.”

Mitsuru ignored the jab.  “However, he did agree to reconsider should there be another attempt to remove him from his position within the Yasoinaba force.”  The smirk soured on the Director’s face.  “Or, if for some unknown reason, didn’t allow him to be occasionally loaned out to the Shadow Operatives in times of need.”  It was Mitsuru’s turn to smirk through the wave of auburn hair that framed her face.  “As you’d no doubt agree, he is a remarkable detective.  One of a kind, even.”

“Of-of course.  The Special Investigation Unit would be hard pressed to not have one of our best working for our nation’s greater interest.”

“So glad we could see eye to eye.  I’d be so disappointed if the man who ended a national nightmare would have to publicly quit the police precinct he has worked so hard for.  Even worse if those who’d he stood up for stabbed him in the back for petty political gain turned out to be somehow involved in this awful mess.”  She motioned to her companion.  “We’ll see ourselves out.”

She did just that, leaving the director to stew in the silence.

The director knew better than to try and call his associates immediately after such a visit.  He instead paged a cleaning sweep of his office for any bugs, while he stepped a private room two doors over to call using a disposable cell phone.  “I’m sure you saw the news.  Make sure all of our loose ends are taken care of, properly this time.  And tell Masayoshi Shido it’s his turn.  Let’s hope his plan to steer the National Diet in our favor is much more successful than this mess.”

“....What should we do about the detective? Nothing.  He’s not worth the effort.  And make sure Shido knows that Kirijo is onto their research leak.  Isshiki might be a liability.”  The phone clicked off.

 

“What a mess.  But Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, some of those shadowy figures seem awfully familiar. But nah, its not like someone's going to abuse the power of personas for another crazy grab for power, right?
> 
> Right?
> 
> I almost hate to leave the story here, without wrapping up back in Inaba, but I wasn't sure if that was worth dragging this out any more than I have. Maybe if I get enough responses, I'll tack on a 'Proper Ending'... just like all the games do.
> 
> Thank you for reading this. This has been a lot of blood, sweat and tears on my part, and unfortunately between all the joys of teaching and some nasty illnesses, I let you guys hang for longer than I had any right too. This started off as a 'Dangit, Dojima needs a persona' fic that became my own little exploration at some of the themes of Persona through someone who wasn't a silent teen protagonist. 
> 
> Since beginning this fic, I finished Persona 5, started Persona 2 (both Eternal Punishment and Innocent Sin), got a master's degree, got licensed to teach, started teaching full time, got distracted by the Switch, and despite it all still think Ryotaro Dojima is the best thing to come out of the Persona series (even the god awful version from Persona 4: Golden the animation), and managed to finish before the P4 manga did.


	21. The true epilogue

    By the time cherry blossoms bloomed again in Inaba, the population had put much of the fear of winter behind them, thanks to the messages of cheer from their local goddess.  As well as the newfound feeling of safety from Inaba’s newly guardian.  Even if said guardian didn’t really have much say in the whole mess, anyways.

 

    Clicking the suitcase shut, Yu mused how differently this departure felt from the last few times.  Before, each time he’d vaguely wondered if it was safe to leave Inaba behind, if there wasn’t some danger that would appear again with his absence.  Now…

 

    His Uncle’s grumblings traveled down the hall.  As Yu paused to listen, he could make out the words 'shirt', 'shrunk' 'buttons' and several curses that teenager was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear.  Ah.  No doubt another dress shirt had given up the valiant fight of trying to fit his uncles larger frame.  If only his uncle wasn't such a creature of habit, and not wait until he ended up with another ruined shirt before replacing his wardrobe.

     As best as Marie had tried to explain it, Dojima’s personas had a natural regenerative property to them, and since they were able to remain active and unbound in the ‘real’ world, his uncle’s body would have to adapt to the massive energy they produced, like a callous on your hand. That meant as he burned off any excess, his body would continue to feed on and adapt to the energy overload.  It’s not like his uncle would just sit still, anyways.  She’d assured them he’d level off in another few months at most, but in the meantime, his uncle was dealing with a shrinking wardrobe.  At least the department was more than willing to pay for a new dress uniform for their new star detective.  

 

    A dress uniform commissioned special from Tatsumi Texiles, to show off the local town talents, of course.  One that the Tatsumis had carefully modified for him, with a fair amount of extra material to let out, if need be.  Kanji even had done some careful stitching and had given the traditional navy outfit extra panels and blended fabrics, to allow extra range of movement for the detective, should the need arise.  They'd done the same for his grey suits as well.  If the detective was going to continue to jump into danger, the least they could do was make sure his clothes could take the abuse.

     After all, that’s what had spelled the end of the first  dress uniform.  Funny, really, that someone thought that a _police press conference on national television_ was a good place to start picking pockets.  To be fair, the thief probably didn’t think the detective leading the press conference would leap off the podium and have him pinned before anyone knew what was happening.  Thankfully the length of Dojima’s jacket was enough to hide the tear in the seat of his pants, but nothing had spared the lenses of a tv station’s camera from the violent trajectory of one of the several buttons that had gone flying.  One rookie was still living down the fact that he’d assumed the noise had been a gunshot, resulting in the young man drawing his service pistol in front of the entire audience.

 

    After that display, coupled with the praise from his work on dealing with Adachi and Seitou, Dojima was heralded as Inaba’s own local hero.  No amount of glaring on the detective’s part dampened the use of his new unwanted nickname, ‘Super Cop,’ at least when he was out of hearing range to protest.  It was probably a large part of the reason the precinct started using him in most of their promotional material.  Or tried to, at least.  Several photos had the distinct ‘paparazzi’ look to them; no surprise as the detective could stand for a lot of things, but smiling for a camera, when he would much rather be doing his actual job, was not one of them.

     Some of the notoriety helped, though.  On the rare occasions that his uncle had crossed the line of ‘normal’ human limits, the ensuing eye witness accounts were quickly chalked up to embellishment… even by _the witnesses themselves_.  Broken doors and bent metal blamed on old material; Marie called it ‘reality blindness’.  People saw what they wanted to see, and made excuses for everything else.  Privately, she mentioned that this level of ‘blindness’ was reserved for the more powerful supernatural, like gods or guardian spirits, but perhaps it just meant that Inaba had really appointed Ryotaro Dojima as its personal guardian.  

 

    Yosuke had quipped a (mangled) line from an American movie as Marie had explained allthis, during her latest visit a few weeks later.  “He’s not the hero we want, but the hero we need….” (which had resulted in Chie promptly kicking him, saying that of course he would get the quote wrong, and anyways, it was only a matter of time before someone tried to turn the whole story into a kick ass action flick).  Several groans later, the subject was dropped with gusto as they worked on their plans on what to do before Yu left for university, and Rise and Naoto went back to the city for their work.  They made sure the last three months would be full of happy memories, more than enough to drown out the terror and fear they'd had to deal with, again.

 

    Before all that, though, they had needed to explain everything to Nanako; Yu had been rather firm about that idea as soon as they confirmed, through the Kirijo scientists, Marie and Margaret, that everything had stabilized.  Dojima had hesitated, silent during the drive home after the whirlwind of Seitou’s defeat and capture, but hadn’t really argued as Yu made an impassioned argument that Nanako deserved to know.

    “Uncle, she’s too smart not to notice something has been going on.  She’s been upset, thinking you and I are keeping secrets about your health from her.  How long before she sees something and tells someone, not realizing what trouble it will cause?”

    There was a soft grumble from the older man, but otherwise no indication Dojima was arguing, or even listening to him.  They were almost home, and Yu worried that without the confines of the car, he’d not get Dojima to listen to his pleas on the matter.

    “Are you still worried about the call you got, requesting you at the Metropolitan Police headquarters tomorrow?”

    “Mm.” A slight nod confirmed the teenager’s suspicions. “I hope your friends in the Kirijo group know what they’re doing.  I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, particularly for not telling anyone else about the press conference.  If this doesn’t work, I’m out on my ass...or at the very least, on probation until I retire….”

    “That might be a long way off, the way Marie and Margaret were talking.  A lot longer than the precinct might be prepared for.”  It was just as well; no one could see his uncle taking retirement well.  But the reminder of his 'other' status made the older man grimace, all the same.

    The car lapsed back into silence as they pulled into the car park of the house.  His younger cousin’s footsteps could be heard, running to the side door, and felt his heart, heavy in his chest, still worried that his uncle would let this secret eat away at little their impromptu family.  After all that had happened over the last two years, he’d learned how much secrets, no matter how good their intention, could turn ruinous.  

    “Dadddddddy!” The little eight year old was swept up by her father, held tight at his hip.  

    “I missed you, princess.  Come on, we should get inside.”

     All three of them seated around the kotatsu, Dojima scratching the back of his head as he picked his words carefully.  “Nanako… I know you’ve been worried, thinking that I was keeping a secret from you and not telling you what was going on….”

    The little girl looked at her cousin, worriedly.  “Yeah, I heard Big Bro talking with his friends about how they were worried about something happening to you, like you were sick.  I asked about it, but Big Bro said you weren’t sick….” 

    "Ah.” Dojima patted his nephew’s shoulder, breaking the accusatory stare the kid was getting from his daughter.  “Well, he was right.  I wasn’t sick, but there was… something strange going on with your dad, I did tell him not to let you know about it, because we weren’t sure what was going on ourselves.”

    Worried eyes became curious.  “‘Something strange,’ Daddy? What happened?”

    More scratching.  If he wasn’t careful, he was going to give himself a bald spot.  “Nanako, do you remember what happened last November, when you went missing?  That place you told me about, that Yu and his friends saved you from?” The pigtails bounced slowly with the nod of her hair.  “Well, you were right, and when I was at the prison, visiting Adachi, I ended up there, too.  I didn’t get sick like you did, but something… something went wrong, and your dad came back… different.”

    “You were worried a lot, and seemed really angry back then.  Was that why?”

    “Yeah… yeah, your dad was worried someone find out what had happened.” Talking in third person helped, it seemed.  “You see, Nanako, when your dad came back, He- _I_ could do things that weren’t, well, normal.  Ah, here, I’ll show you.”

    Dojima picked up the thick metal bar from the center of the table.  This was becoming such a regular occurrence, he wondered if Daidara would start giving him a discount on these iron scraps.  This time, he bent the rod into corkscrew shape, keeping the curls tight and small.

    The little girl’s wide eyes didn’t leave her father’s hands, entranced.  “Dad, you’re so strong!  You’re… you’re like a superhero!”  She continued to watch, entranced, as coils began to glow, first a dull red, then a bright orange.  The awe of the child dissolved into giggles when Yu dropped a small scrap of pork belly, left over from sukiyaki he’d been making for dinner, right on the top of heated coil. 

    The fatty meat sizzled and popped immediately.  “See, Nanako, now we can do yakitori whenever your dad’s home.” Yu ignored the glare he was getting from his makeshift grill.  

    Dojima dropped the coil, meat and all, into a waiting potholder.  “If that’s the case, remember the oil next time.”  The meat ripped as he pulled it off, proving his point.  “Silliness aside, Nanako… this is something very, very dangerous.  For a while, I couldn’t control it very well, and… well, I was worried I’d hurt you, or someone else by accident.”

    “Oh!  That...that sounds scary.”

    Her father nodded.  “Mmhm.  I’m much better about it now, but… You know that show you like, Magical Detective Loveline?  Do you know why Loveline keeps her identity a secret?”

    Nanako nodded, the excitement of all of this a bit too much for the young girl.  “Uh-huh! She does it to make sure that the bad guys don’t figure out who she is, so she can keep her friends and family safe!”  There was a dawning light in those big brown eyes.  “Is that why you couldn’t tell me?  A-and… why I shouldn’t tell anyone else about this?  Because someone might try to hurt us if they knew about you?”

    “That’s right.  A few other people know, such as a few of Yu’s friends who helped us last year.  But there are others out there who would want to do nasty things if they knew about… all of this.  The last thing I want to have happen is you to get hurt because of me-”

    Anything else Dojima was going to say was cut off as Nanako tackled him in a tight hug.  Of course Nanako understood.  Children growing up often see their parents as superheroes, and for Nanako, that just happened to be real…kinda.  

    “What else can you do, dad?”

    _Enough with letting the upstart show off, my turn._ Ryūjin’s rumble had him picking up a light bulb from the closet, and letting the persona send a small current through his fingers to make it illuminate the living room.  Nanako oohed and clapped, and Dojima found himself at the losing end of a one upping contest between his two personas, egged on by the child’s adoring face.  He’d told them off after Hikohohodemi had him lifting the whole front end of the car several feet off the ground, balanced on two fingers, and shooting down the idea he lift it over his head.

    “Alright, alright, we’re going to have a long day tomorrow, and it’s way past your bedtime, young lady.” _The same goes for you two.  You’re giving me a headache_.

 

* * *

 

    The next morning, Yu’d been surprised by the sight he’d come down the stairs to.  His uncle was dressed in most of his dress uniform, save for the jacket, hat and gloves which hung off the back of one of the kitchen chairs, standing next to Nanako in the kitchen.  In Dojima’s hands was the old teapot, which had rarely been used in favor of the electric kettle.  The small girl seemed to be arranging something in front of her.  “Ready?”

    Nanako bobbed her head.  “Go for it, dad!”

    With that, the kettle glowed a dull orange, and the whole kitchen seemed to be going through a mini heat wave. A few moments of this and the whistle of steam announced the water inside was boiled.  Nanako clapped in approval, and directed her father to pour the contents into the waiting bowls of what her cousin suspected was miso and bento stock.  With a final flourish, his young cousin declared breakfast prepared and ushered everyone to their seats.

    His uncle winced as he sat down.  “D-dang it, guess it’s been too long since I wore this.”  Sighing at the questioning look from his nephew, Dojima stammered, his ears turning a brilliant red.  “T-the suit’s a bit tighter than I remember.”

    “Well, that makes sense.  I mean, Marie did mention that because your personas are able to manifest in the physical world, they’d would have some physical effect on you as well….”

    His uncle grunted, reached for the eggs, and winced again.  “Ugh, don’t remind me, Yu.  The gossips at the precincts are merciless about those sort of things.  A few days ago one of them asked if needed recommendations for gym, since the folding chairs kept complaining when I sat down….”

    Yu almost dropped his miso, a violent twitch settling in his eye.  “But...they saw...you... _are they blind_?!”

    His uncle chuckled.  “Nah, just very petty and insecure about themselves.  They’re useless busibodies who can’t do anything useful, so they make quick work picking on any flaw they can.  They were awful to Shirogane when she came onboard.  She did get them to shut up quick when she proved right about the serial murders.  Figure they’ll find a new target sooner than later.”

    At that point, the detective’s phone rang.  “Hello?  Right, thanks.  Yeah, I know I’m skirting the line here, sir, but we won’t hit them where it hurts if this leaked ahead of time.  I appreciate it, sir.  I’ll be there in an hour.”

    “Alright, let’s finish up, and I’ll drop you both off at school.”

     According to Naoto, the precinct gossips had gotten worse after the button incident at the press conference, leaving his poor uncle coupons for ‘big and tall’ shops and diet snacks on his desk when he wasn’t looking.  Dojima had ignored the comments for the most part, but it had made it harder for his family to coax him to actually look into, ah, updating his wardrobe, even as Kanji confided to Yu that his mother had commented that they’d need to make the detective’s new dress uniform a good 6 sizes larger than the old one.

    Eventually, the vultures shut up, _particularly_ after someone had gotten pictures of the detective shirtless that showed body fat was the last thing he needed to be worried about.  (Yu had eventually gotten hold of the pictures, and recognised it from when several of the girls had made a disaster area of the kitchen, and his poor uncle had borne the brunt of a ultra spicy mysterious curry that had gone flying.  How the gossips had gotten ahold of that picture was a mystery, if one was blind, deaf and dumb, and didn’t know Naoto had her own interests in revenge against the police station harpies.)

 

* * *

 

    Which is why, on Yu’s last morning in Inaba (until his next break), his uncle was cursing under his breath.

    “Uncle, did you miscount how many new shirts you had when we did laundry yesterday?  You really should throw out those old ones, they just take up space and look like your new ones, after all….”

    The grumbling outside continued.  “They’re still good...stupid personas playing around like they own the damned pl-hngh!”  No doubt said personas were having their say in the matter. “Fine, we’ll go to Junes on the way to the train station, and pick a spare.”

    “Several ‘spares’, uncle. This isn’t the first time.”

    More grumbling, but then a chuckle.  “What am I going to without you?”

 

* * *

 

    Everyone was gathered at the station, sad but excited for the next time they’d see each other.  His uncle grasped his shoulder, pulling the teen into an awkward side hug.  “Tell your mother hello from me. Make sure to call regularly, too.  Heck, you know there’s always a home waiting for you here….”

    “Thank you.  You know, you have a phone, too, if you want to reciprocate…”

    His uncle laughed. “This town is never the same without you.  What will we do?”

    Yu smiled, taking a moment to hug Nanako before answering his uncle’s rhetorical question.  “Somehow, I think you’ll be just fine.  Better than that, even.”

    It was true.  For the first time, as his train pulled away from the Yasoinaba station, he had no worries that the town was in good hands.

 

    After all, how many places had their own, genuine, goddess appointed protector?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that... I leave the further adventures of this Dojima for your imaginations. Or your fics. Or my inbox!
> 
> I live for comments, good, bad or funny. Tell me what you think! Tell me what you think happened! Tell me what you wish would have happened!
> 
> I'll take it all.


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